


Of Stars, Steam, and Pride

by LadyVegeets



Category: Dragon Ball, Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-27
Updated: 2016-11-25
Packaged: 2018-08-27 07:18:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 36,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8392306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyVegeets/pseuds/LadyVegeets
Summary: Bulma learns that the last man in the galaxy she wants to be with, is the one man she can't be without. (Here lies: Pride and Prejudice in SPACE and with Steampunk themes. Where Vegeta is Mr.Darcy and Bulma is Elizabeth Bennet. Winner of the Prince and Heiress 2016 literature challenge.)





	1. OSS&P Part 01 (w/ FANARTs)

[ ](http://s1079.photobucket.com/user/ladyvegeets/media/Literaturechallengebanner_zpsftjjwjhu.png.html)

**AN:**   Written for the 2016 Literary Fanfic Challenge on ** _The Prince and The Heiress’s_** **community.** And thanks to those who voted, I got **FIRST PLACE** ^_^ I’m super honored and stunned guys, thank you!! You should seriously check out **the other entires** , they were all SO GOOD. Really, I was so blown away by the competition, I thought for sure they would win, haha. Come check out the community too if you’re also a mad vegebul fan! :D

 

***Of Stars, Steam, and Pride***

**By LadyVegeets, (** beta-read by Artephile / Marcella-Duchamp **)**

**~Part 1~**

 

It’s a truth universally known that where there is technology, there is Bulma. Or at least, it was universally known by those who knew her, which Chi Chi did.

“Bulma!”

Bulma frowned, scowling at the machinery, trying to ignore her friend’s voice that was getting closer. Bulma wiped sweat from her brow and adjusted the mechanical sight over her left eye to better look at the meter. She was quite proud of the invention - it was a standard military scouter that she had upgraded and tweaked to be used not for spotting enemies in the distance, but for tiny imperfections and leaks in the pipe-works. However, it wasn’t doing her much good now because the meter was still giving her strange readings. It just didn’t make _sense_. The warning alarm wasn’t going off, there was no alert, there was absolutely _nothing_ to suggest that anything was wrong… other than the fact that the East sector was reportedly getting no steam. No steam meant no power. No power meant no forcefield. No forcefield meant -

“BULMA! OH MY GOSH, just LOOK at you!”

Bulma sat up from under the pipes, staring at the pretty yet aggravated face of her friend. Chi Chi glared down at her, her mouth pursed in a little moue bow, her fists perched on her frilled hips, looking gorgeous in her outfit and terrifying in her rage.

“Bulma, you’re a MESS,” Chi Chi spat, her eyes dragging over her friend.

Bulma looked down at herself, wincing in agreement. They had been on their way to the ball when Bulma, in typical fashion, had passingly glanced at one of the city wall’s readers, a small device that allowed engineers to see the wall’s energy output (it was her job after all, off-duty or not, and she had an almost obsessive compulsion to check one whenever she walked past), and that’s when she’d noticed the odd reading. And of course, being Bulma, she couldn’t leave well enough alone, so she had come down into the bowels of the city wall’s defenses and tried to see if she could puzzle out the anomaly, all the while wearing one of her most expensive dresses that was now covered in dust and grease. She could feel her hair coming out from her pins, the intense heat from the boilers making her sweat. Which meant her makeup was probably also melting. Peachy.

Bulma pushed the eye piece up into her hair, fixing it like a large pin, ready to be whipped back down at a moment’s notice of some mechanical failure. Bulma always did prefer functional over fashionable, although if she could manage both, all the better. “It’s fine, Chi Chi. Nothing five minutes in the powder room won’t fix,” she hoped.

“Twenty-five _years_ hasn’t fixed you yet, and I doubt another twenty-five will,” Chi Chi lamented, helping her friend to her feet and trying to dust off the worst of the damage. She sighed, clucking her tongue. “See? This is why you aren’t married yet. Who would want to wed this?” 

Bulma scowled at her friend, not liking Chi Chi’s constant nagging about matrimony. “I don’t see a ring on your finger either, Chi Chi. Maybe you should worry more about yourself and less about me,” Bulma shot back hotly.

Chi Chi sighed, her look softening. “Bulma, honey. You _know_ I don’t mean to upset you. I’m just trying to look out for what’s best for you. I don’t know why you didn’t accept that boy’s proposal from the Collins estate… Yamcha. He was sweet, he liked you-”

“Liked my _money_ ,” Bulma corrected sourly. “At least, more than he liked me. And liked the call girls _a lot_ more than he ever liked me.” She scowled at the memory before looking at her friend. “Chi Chi, I don’t even _need_ to get married. If I do, I want it to be for the right reasons.”

“Such as?”

“Love. Not just affection but a deep, burning, consuming passion, someone who is my equal, who enjoys adventure, intellectual pursuits, romance!”

Chi Chi rolled her eyes at her friend’s dramatics. “Whatever. We’re not having this argument now. I won’t allow you to look a mess _and_ be late to the ball, not this time. I heard there’s a new eligible gentleman in the city. A Mr Son, of the Bingley Estate.” 

“Oh, I see,” Bulma drawled knowingly. “Here I thought you were worried about _me_ , but all this time you were worried about yourself.”

Chi Chi blushed. She grabbed Bulma’s arm and tugged her along. “Shut it, _Miss Briefs_ , you’re not allowed to talk back to me when you look such a fright,” she snapped.

Bulma laughed. The mystery of the wall’s readouts would have to wait, she supposed, for they paled in comparison to her friend’s ire.

 

* * *

~_*_~

 

The ball was a lavish, gorgeous affair, but then again, they always were. Beautiful. Opulent. Predictable… It’s not that Bulma _disliked_ them, after all, she did enjoy dressing up, being social, being at the center of attention. When she didn’t look a complete mess she polished up quite nicely, _thank you very much_ , and was one of the more eligible women on the small planet outpost. Not that marriage was something she was considering, but having handsome men fawn over her was flattering at the least, and with the right charming gentlemen, it could even be fun. But still, after a certain number of balls, with the same people, and the same dances, and the same recycled gossip and recycled attempts at flattery, Bulma was, maybe just a little, bored with the whole routine.

She needed to be stimulated. Excited. Challenged. It was what fascinated her about steam powered technology, and why she’d been drawn to it from a young age - that, and her father’s own proclivity for it probably helped. It’s also why she found the anomaly with the wall far more interesting than attending yet _another_ ball, because at least the wall provided her with a challenge and a sense of achievement at the end. What did she have to gain from a ball? Certainly not landing a husband, according to Chi Chi.

Still, in the dead of the galaxy, on a planet with few resources, stuck in a city protected by a forcefield against the vacuum of space and enemies that dwelled on the outstretches of civilization, attending balls was one of the only respectable means of entertainment and passing the time. Bulma understood that. She didn’t hold it against the population; people needed social stimulation after all, and if she felt any resentment, any hostility at feeling trapped, with her wings clipped and her heart aching to be set free to soar off and seek adventure in the world beyond the forcefield, she kept it to herself.

“Oh look, that’s him!” Chi Chi announced in an excited whisper, clutching Bulma’s arm and pointing at a young man with wild black hair and a sincere, almost goofy smile. He was tall and handsome and well-built, clearly a soldier in his military blues. “Goku Son,” Chi Chi reiterated, her eyes latched hungrily onto him, her fingers clawing at Bulma’s arm.

Well, maybe balls weren’t _all_ bad. Sometimes a bit of eye candy was nice too, and this Goku certainly fit the bill. Still, with the way Chi Chi was eating him up, Bulma knew she’d never be forgiven for doing anything more than look. “Not bad, Chi Chi,” she complimented. 

They watched as Goku moved through the ball room, introducing himself and making friendly small talk as he subtly made his way towards the buffet table. Sadly, his efforts were constantly cut short as attendees interrupted his attempts. Bulma smirked, noticing his struggle. She nudged her friend. “Chi Chi, if you fetch the young man some supper, I think he’d be forever in your debt.”

Chi Chi hesitated for only a second before she slipped off towards the buffet. Bulma stood back, watching as Chi Chi gathered a plate laden with food and approached Goku, deftly interjecting into his conversation with a self-important minister and handing Goku the plate. Goku’s eyes widened, and he glanced back and forth between Chi Chi and the food. His face split into a giant grin and he accepted the plate enthusiastically, before taking Chi Chi’s hand and bringing it to his mouth. His lips didn’t touch, but the gesture still brought a blush to Chi Chi’s face. Bulma could tell it was love at first sight.

And she felt something twist in her gut.

Was that… jealousy?

Huh, _that_ was unexpected.

Bulma watched the two talk and smile shyly at each other. Finally Chi Chi remembered her friend and invited Goku to meet her.

“Mr. Son, this is my dearest friend, Miss Bulma Briefs of the Bennet Estate,” Chi Chi introduced sweetly.

“Miss Briefs,” Goku greeted with a friendly smile.

“Mr. Son,” Bulma replied, noting that he didn’t take _her_ hand in greeting.

“Nice little planet you have here,” Goku said amiably. “Good food too. And please, no need for formalities, I’m terrible with them anyways,” he laughed openly. 

“Well then, uh, Son, I’ve heard the Bingley estate has a lovely library on steam works and space travel, is that true?” Bulma inquired.

Goku laughed again, appearing sheepish. “Oh, yes, I think? I er, I’m not very good with books to be honest, I prefer training.”

Bulma could see that. The man was built, even amongst the standards of the military. “Well, how long will you be stationed with us?” Bulma asked.

“Ah, a while,” Goku replied with a careless shrug. “I was just telling your friend, Miss Ox, that the saibamen have been ramping up their attacks lately, spreading further out across the galaxy. We - _oh_! That reminds me. I should introduce you,” he said, and looked around, standing on his tiptoes and looking over people’s heads, trying to spot someone. He was so endearingly energetic, and it made him appear quite young and honest. Yes, Bulma definitely liked him. Goku finally waved, beckoning for someone to approach.

Bulma looked over and saw an imposing figure push through the crowd towards them. The new man wasn’t tall but still left an impression, his toned physique, scowling features, pointy hair and proud swagger all quite intimidating. He wore white military gloves and boots, dressed far more formally than Goku, and the blues he wore were decorated with a myriad of medals and stars, denoting him to be very highly skilled and important. Bulma was impressed, not just with his accolades, but the way he managed to fend off the social piranhas with one fierce, miserable scowl.

Goku smiled happily as his dour friend arrived. “Miss Ox, Miss Briefs, this is my esteemed friend, Vegeta of the Darcy Estate. He’s-”

“Colonel Vegeta,” Vegeta interjected flatly, throwing Goku an irritated look.

“Right! Colonel Vegeta.”

“A pleasure,” Chi Chi greeted. 

Vegeta gave the women a cursory glance. He looked at Chi Chi, then at Bulma. His eyes took in her disheveled appearance, and he frowned, his lip curling. He looked back at Goku. “Is that all, Kakarot?” he asked impatiently.

Goku winced at his friend’s abruptness. He gave an awkward laugh. “Yes, I suppose…”

Vegeta walked off.

Bulma bristled, amazed at the man’s rudeness. 

“Sorry about him, he’s… not good with people,” Goku apologized to the two women. “He’s actually a really good person though.”

Bulma had her doubts, but she kept them to herself. “Did he call you Kakarot?” she asked.

Goku laughed, sounding embarrassed. “Yes, well. That was an old codename, but Vegeta insists on calling me that.”

The evening progressed pleasantly enough after that. When Goku had finished eating he invited Chi Chi to dance, and they did. They made the most disgustingly adorable couple. Goku wasn’t especially good at dancing, but his infectious and good natured laugh more than made up for his missteps, and Chi Chi gently guided him as best she could. 

Chi Chi was trying to teach him a new dance when Goku made another mistake and laughed, apologizing and rubbing the back of his hair.

“Tch.”

Bulma startled, hearing the noise from over her shoulder. She glanced to her left, seeing the dark, brooding figure of Vegeta just behind her, watching the couple dance, his arms folded and his face pulled into a scowl.

“Is… something wrong?” she dared to ask.

“He’s such a clown,” Vegeta said, his eyes still on the dance. Bulma wasn’t sure if he was replying to her, or just commenting to himself.

“At least he’s attempting to enjoy himself,” she remarked, and still bristling at his rudeness from before, muttered, “Which is more than can be said of you.”

His eyes slid over to her, his scowl deepening. He gave her a quick once over. “And _you_ ,” he replied snidely. And not, she was loathe to admit, untruly. She was just as guilty as he was, standing on the sidelines, watching and doing nothing. Well, to hell with that.

Bulma turned and faced him full on. “Alright. Challenge met, sir. Care to dance?”

His lip curled in a sneer. “With _you_?”

“Yes, with me. Do you see anyone else asking?”

“Well, when you put it like that. No.”

“ _Excuse_ me?”

“I’m neither desperate _nor_ flattered. It takes more than some backwater beauty to entice me. Like I’d stoop so low as to dance with the likes of you.”

Bulma felt her mouth drop open in outrage, her hands fisting. How _dare_ he! Bulma’s fingers clenched about her drink’s stem and she moved to drop it over his head.

Only he was much faster. As she raised the drink his arm shot out, and she found herself suddenly shoved back against the wall, her wrist held painfully in his grip up above her head. He squeezed and she dropped the glass, where it shattered on the floor. People nearby turned to look. Bulma blushed in embarrassment, but if Vegeta was ashamed of the scene he caused, he didn’t show it.

“You’re hurting me,” Bulma grumbled, looking him defiantly in the eyes despite his rough treatment and rougher attitude. 

He sneered at her. “What’s it to me? A little force is necessary to put a disobedient brass mouse back in place,” he said, using the derogatory nickname for a low level engineer, the term evoking images of the little busy mice who scurried around the brass pipes, hence the name. Her eyes widened, surprised he’d even know the term, or be using it about _her_.

“ _What_ did you call me?” she whispered with barely suppressed rage.

He reached for her with his free hand. She flinched back and he smirked. He ran his thumb slowly along her neck, the fabric of his glove grazing her skin. Bulma’s breath caught in her throat, her heart hammering, suddenly beating wildly beneath her ribs. He dragged his thumb up, pressing along her pulse before lifting his hand between them, showing her the black grease smeared on his thumb that she hadn’t cleaned off. “Don’t try to deny it.” He looked up at the mechanical sight in her hair. “And I know that’s no hair piece. What’re you doing with a scouter? Did you steal that too, along with your way into this ball? I have to say, your planet must be pretty pathetic to allow a brass mouse into these events.”

Bulma was _livid_ , offended on so many levels she didn’t know where to begin. “FIRST of all,” she started, feeling an unholy rage well up inside of her. “If I _were_ a brass mouse, I’d still be perfectly welcome here; everyone is equal, you overbearing SNOB,” she huffed, feeling her cheeks get hot along with her words. “SECOND of all, I’m _far_ beyond the skills of any brass mouse you likely know. THIRD, this is _my_ ‘scouter’, and I didn’t not _steal_ it; how dare you accuse me without even knowing me. FOURTH, who the hell are you to come to _my_ planet, to _my_ ball-”

“ _Your_ ball?” he drawled, clearly amused at her tirade.

“YES _MY_ BALL. Don’t interrupt. Where was I?”

“Point number four,” he offered cordially, still smirking.

“Right! You’re _my_ guest but you insult _me_ even as you’re STILL so rudely holding my arm without my permission, and painfully too, might I-”

_KA-BOOM!_

A devastating, ear-shattering explosion rocked the building, the entire room shaking and bursting into debris. Bulma’s scream was cut short, muffled against Vegeta’s chest. He tucked her head against him, keeping her pressed tightly between himself and the wall, safe. She could hear people screaming and feel the heat of a fire starting to burn nearby. Terrified, totally forgetting that they’d been fighting just a second before, Bulma huddled against Vegeta, surprised at how sturdy and secure he made her feel.

She glanced up at him. He looked down at her. Their eyes met and held. His were dark, black as space and just as cold and unreadable.

“VEGETA!”

They both looked over to where Goku was running towards them, Chi Chi’s hand in his.

Vegeta stepped back, letting Bulma go, his face taking on a serious, no nonsense look. He started peeling off his white gloves. “On it. Get everyone out,” he snapped at Goku.

“Right,” Goku replied.

“What’s going on?” Bulma demanded, starting to recover from the shock.

“We’re under attack, obviously. Follow Kakarot, he’ll get everyone to safety,” Vegeta replied matter-of-factly.

“Under attack? What… who…? What about you?” Bulma spluttered, her mind reeling.

“I’ll engage the enemy,” Vegeta replied. His gloves came off. Bulma’s eyes widened, seeing the bronze and copper wires wrapped around his hand, fingers and wrist.

“Is that a ki guard?” she asked, unable to keep the awe from her voice.

He looked at her, his face disclosing his surprise. “How do you know-”

There was another explosion, this one further away, but the screams that filled the air proved it was no less devastating. They all teetered, barely retaining their balance as the ground shook from the aftershock.

Vegeta grimaced and glared at Goku. “Get out, now, I’ll -” he touched his temple, reaching for something that wasn’t there. His face twisted in frustration. “Fuck!” He looked at Goku. Goku winced and shook his head. Vegeta swore again. Then he paused, and looked at Bulma.

Bulma blinked in surprise. “What-”

He stepped forward, reaching for her. He snatched her scouter from her hair and placed it over his ear, snapping the piece over his eye. “Get them out,” he said to Goku, then he turned on his heels and left.

“Hey, wait!” Bulma called, but Goku suddenly ran off in the other direction, tugging Chi Chi behind him. Chi Chi reached out and grabbed her. “C’mon, Bulma!”

“Don’t worry about Vegeta. He’s the best at this. He never misses a target,” Goku assured as he pulled along.

“But he took my scouter!” Bulma protested.

“So what!?” Chi Chi cried out as they ran through the debris, catching up to the crowd of people making a panicked escape. 

“It’s _my_ scouter!” Bulma insisted.

“Damnit, Bulma, this is no time to be possessive!” Chi Chi shouted at her shrilly, her eyes wide in fear.

“No, you don’t understand! I _modified_ it. He won’t…” her voice trailed off. Chi Chi would never understand, and more than that, Chi Chi didn’t need to. There was only one way to fix the matter. Bulma pulled her hand free of Chi Chi’s grip and turned, running back the way Vegeta had left.

“BULMA! _BULMA_ ~!” she heard Chi Chi scream desperately for her, but she ignored her.

Bulma ran back through the ball room, holding her skirts up over her mouth and nose to block out the smoke that was rapidly filling the room. She made her way to the large hole in the wall and bravely jumped through, the cool air outside hitting her like a bucket of ice water.

Free from the smoke and able to suck in fresh air, Bulma looked around at the chaos outside. The neighborhood was ablaze, nearby buildings on fire and rubble in the streets. People were screaming and madly running off, trying to escape the center of the attack. And standing in the middle of it all, was Vegeta. He stood with his arm outstretched, looking up at the sky. Bulma looked up too and could see the glint of lights as several air ships came careening towards them. _Saibamen_ , it had to be, those vicious little space pirates who had once preyed only on the small ships flying through space, but recently the pirates had organized and grown bold, attacking small outposts and even larger armadas. But the saibamen shouldn’t have been able to breach the forcefield, not unless…

Bulma went cold. _The strange readings from the city wall_. 

She had no time to dwell on the matter as she heard Vegeta swearing. His arm was still pointed to the sky. Energy crackled around his hand where the mechanical gauntlet glowed hotly, sparking and spitting. Suddenly a huge beam of light blasted into the air from it, attempting to shoot down one of the ships.

And missed.

Vegeta swore again. He fired shot after shot. Some of them connected. Just. Most of them did not. The saibamen returned fire, blowing up surrounding buildings and the square they stood in, sending Bulma to the ground, but Vegeta stood proud, unflinching, and continued to defend the city. His face was twisted in agitation, and Bulma could guess why. Her scouter, instead of helping him, was hindering his aim that Goku claimed never missed.

She staggered to her feet and ran over to him.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING, GET OUT OF HERE!” Vegeta yelled at her, not even glancing her way, the smell of ozone in the air as he fired another shot at the oncoming enemy.

Bulma set her chin stubbornly and yanked the scouter from his temple.

“What the _fuck_!” he snarled at her.

“It’s been modified for extremely close range, you dunce! You’re better off without it!”

He swore, a string of very colorful, nasty words, half of which were in a language she didn’t even know but could gather the meaning of just from his tone. He squinted, aimed, and fired, and blew up the closest oncoming ship dead-on. Finally.

Bulma didn’t have time to gloat because she was suddenly shoved aside, Vegeta pushing her away. “GO!”

“Don’t tell me what to do. I can fix it!” she huffed, already looking at the scouter and making modifications to the sight.

“Get OUT of here, woman. You’re distracting me!” he snapped, firing again, taking out another ship. “And as you can see, now that your little science project isn’t screwing me over, I don’t need your help.”

“My little science project wouldn’t have screwed you over if you’d just _asked_ before _stealing_ my scouter!”

“Oh, forgive me. Next time I try to save your pathetic planet from under attack, I’ll be sure to put in a formal written request for your scouter _in triplicate_!” 

Bulma would love to have replied, but there was another explosion and she silently acknowledged that it wasn’t the best time for them to be fighting. She pulled out a pin from her hair and used it make a few adjustments to the scouter as Vegeta continued attack up into the sky. He didn’t have any trouble taking out the ships at close range, but a couple of the saibamen hung back, high above, barely visible to the human eye; in the dark, through the heat of the fires and smoke that filled the air, even Vegeta had trouble aiming at them accurately without the aid of a scouter. His brow was covered in sweat, and he was breathing hard. A glance told Bulma he was growing exhausted. She’d never seen anyone use a ki guard before and had only heard about them. The stories told of them taking a huge toll on the body, even leading to death if overused. Despite the total asshat this Vegeta was, he was still defending her city and Bulma didn’t want him to die if it could be avoided.

Looking up, Bulma saw there was only one ship left, high above the city. Vegeta shot at it again and again but couldn’t hit it. At this point he was having to support his right arm with his left, his body trembling, his breathing ragged. The ship fired at the ground and both Bulma and Vegeta staggered. Vegeta fell to his knees.

Bulma ran over to him. “We should go!”

“I have this under control!” he snapped at her, shoving her away irritably. “Get the hell out! Find Kakarot, tell him-”

The ship fired again, this time only feet away from where they stood. Bulma screamed as she was thrown, not by the blast, but by a hard shove sending her flying down across the pavement. She hit the ground hard, rolling, and when she finally came to a stop her entire body hurt. Her arms were scratched and bloodied, her dress torn. She looked over her shoulder, glaring at Vegeta who’d pushed her violently away. She was ready to yell at him, but then saw he hadn’t moved, collapsed on his hands and knees, trembling, his back glistened darkly.

Bulma felt something drop in her stomach. She hurried painfully over to him and put her hand on his back. It came away wet and red with blood. His blood. Her eyes widened in horror. He’d taken the brunt of the blast. For her? His head hung low, his eyes scrunched closed in pain, his face pale and drenched in sweat.

A horrible, high pierced whistling sliced the air. Bulma looked up, seeing the last saibaman ship hurtling towards them. It came, rushing closer and closer, aiming to take them out while Vegeta was unable to return fire. “Vegeta,” she stammered, shaking him, trying to get his attention.

He grimaced and shoved at her weakly. “Blasted woman… Go…”

“Here,” she offered, and she slipped the scouter onto his face, over his eye. He glared at her, then looked up at the ship hurtling towards them. He staggered to his feet, barely able to stand, panting heavily. He raised his arm, and with a fierce, guttural scream, he fired a ki blast at the oncoming ship.

It blew up just above the city skyline like fireworks, raining burning debris upon them. 

Vegeta fell to his knees again, shaking in exhaustion, gasping for air. Bulma squatted by his side, and gingerly reached out to touch his arm.

He swatted her away. “Are you _insane_?” he growled at her, his tone livid, even if he couldn’t find the energy to shout at her.

“Excuse me?” she replied, holding her slapped hand.

“You could have been _killed_. You nearly got _ME_ killed!”

“I beg your pardon,” Bulma replied with growing indignation. “I believe I helped save us.”

“ _YOU_?!” He gave a wry, disbelieving laugh. “You’re delusional.”

“And you’re too proud to accept help. AND you’re hurt.”

“I’ve had worse.” 

“Is that supposed to impress me?”

“I don’t need to impress a brass mouse.”

“You are _such_ an ass.”

“And you… are…” Vegeta’s voice trailed off, and he swayed, starting to tip over. 

Bulma caught him, barely. He was dense, heavier than he looked, and she struggled to keep him upright. “Whoa there.”

“Vegeta!” a male voice called out. Bulma looked over as Goku came running towards them, covered in soot and his clothing torn. He crouched down and put Vegeta’s arm over his shoulder, helping the colonel to his feet. “What happened?”

“Fucking scouter,” Vegeta snapped, leaning heavily on Goku. “Couldn’t hit the bastards. Then _this one_ shows up and I had to babysit her because _you_ couldn’t do your goddamn job and get everyone _out of the fucking way_ …”

Goku said nothing, taking the tongue lashing in stride, even as Bulma wanted to smack Vegeta. Goku glanced at her. “Hey, you should come with us,” he told her. “I’m sorry but your friend was hurt while we escaped. Nothing too serious but I took her back to my estate to be treated. I’d be happy to put you up so you can look after her.”

“Oh…of course…” Bulma said, at a loss for words, overwrought from everything that had transpired. They walked through the wreckage as first responders started to arrive to put out the fires and treat the injured. Goku helped Vegeta limp down the streets while Bulma trailed after them, her mind wrapped up in her own thoughts.

Chi Chi was hurt, the city was a mess, and Bulma couldn’t decide what to think about Vegeta who acted so arrogantly, yet had saved their city. But above all those thoughts swirling foremost in her mind, Bulma kept worrying about the city’s forcefields, and the strange reading she’d been puzzling out before the ball. Was there a connection? And if there was, the only way someone could have tampered with the system was from the inside…

Vegeta stumbled, staying upright only due to Goku’s grip. Bulma picked up her pace and hurried to help support Vegeta on his other side.

“Hey, thanks,” Goku told her gratefully.

Vegeta grumbled something under his breath. Bulma thought she heard him mutter ‘brass mouse’ but he was incoherent so she let it slide. Together the three of them walked to Goku’s estate as the city around them struggled to recover from the unexpected attack.

 

 

* * *

~_*_~~_*_~

...Vegeta Darcy by [Artephile](http://www.deviantart.com/art/Vegeta-as-Darcy-639830756) / [Marcella-Duchamp](http://marcella-duchamp.tumblr.com/post/152367182302/vegeta-as-darcy-inspired-by-ladyvegeets-kick-ass)

 

...art by [RedViolett](http://redviolett.tumblr.com)

[Under Attack](http://redviolett.tumblr.com/post/153600774637/under-attack-next-fanart-to-ladyvegeets)

[...Vegeta](http://redviolett.tumblr.com/post/153519279712/more-from-of-stars-steam-and-pride-fanart-from)

 also by Red

 

...art by [GalacticShark17art](https://galacticshark17art.tumblr.com/)

 

....art by [VegetaPsycho](http://vegetapsycho.tumblr.com/)

[ ](http://s1079.photobucket.com/user/ladyvegeets/media/Stars%20Steam%20Pride%20Fanart/VPsycho_BulmaVegeta_PnP_03_zpsutdwjo0m.jpg.html)

 

 **AN** : The first line (“It’s a truth universally known…”) comes directly from the original text of Pride and Prejudice. 

 **Beta-read** in the 11 th hour by my hero, **Artephile** aka **Marcella-Duchamp** , without whom this would be a far greater mess, and who helped and inspired me to come up with a far prettier name than the original working title. ^_^

Thanks also to **stupidoomdoodles** who suggested I keep the DBZ names.

Pride and Prejudice belongs to Jane Austen and… whoever owns those rights now. Nobody, huh? That probably explains Pride, Prejudice and Zombies, which actually inspired this idea in the first place, lol… DBZ belongs to Akira Toriyama.

 **Fanart:** I’ve already received some amazing fanart for this story, from **galacticpridefulprincevegeta (** galaticshark17 **), Artephile** / **Marcella-Duchamp,** and **Rutbisbe.** You should check ’em out!

 p.s. The other contestants who wrote for the challenge were, [BigBad-Wolfy](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12207360/1/Thieves-Pirates-and-Cotton-Candy-Dreams) , [Bitchii-Usa](https://m.fanfiction.net/s/12206155/1/Blue-Kissed-Sky) , [Verimol Lab](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1IKW09zVNniCAcdPLTolZGUnZ9lOsme_GLBJfhbXZZd8/edit) , [Mariana Oliveira](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12206382/1/Ms-Briefs) , [Fleur Licorne](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12207194/1/) , [Vera Lynn](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12207075/1/Revolution-A-Tale-of-Two-Cities-AU) and [FrogLady15](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12205999/1/) and you should read their entries too!


	2. OSS&P Part 02 (w/ FANARTs)

**Of Stars, Steam, and Pride**

**By LadyVegeets**

**~Part 2~**

  

Goku’s estate was lavish to say the least. Bulma was no stranger to opulence, but even she had to take a moment to admire how nice it was. And luckily, it was in a part of the city that hadn’t been attacked. 

Vegeta was barely conscious by the time they arrived, slumped between Goku and Bulma. Bulma struggled under his weight. When they stepped inside the foyer, Goku lifted Vegeta over his shoulder and gave Bulma a courteous smile. “My house is yours, Miss Briefs. Have my people fetch whatever you need. Please take good care of Miss Ox for me.”

“Of course,” Bulma replied, but Goku was already headed off, Vegeta bleeding and hanging limply over his shoulder.

An attendant came and Bulma was led upstairs to a lovely room where Chi Chi was lying in bed. Chi Chi looked pale, her brow furrowed in pain, but she smiled wanly when Bulma entered.

“Bulma! Are you alright? You’re all scratched up!”  Chi Chi asked, pushing herself up even though it pained her to do so.

“I’m fine,” Bulma assured, ignoring for now how tired and sore she felt.

“Oh, thank goodness… How is Son?”

“Also fine,” Bulma replied. “What happened to you?”

“It’s stupid, really,” Chi Chi waved off Bulma’s concern. “Son was so brave! He gathered everyone and led them to an evacuation point. He stopped along the way to help some people from a collapsed building, and I tried to help too but cut open my leg.” 

Bulma lifted the blankets and saw Chi Chi’s leg wrapped in a bandage. It had already bled through. Bulma’s eyes widened in alarm. “Chi Chi, how did you walk on this?!”

“I-I didn’t. Son carried me,” Chi Chi admitted, blushing. 

Bulma rolled her eyes, biting back a smirk. Trust Chi Chi to find the romance in a terrible situation. “You are shameless.”

“Me?” Chi Chi exclaimed. “ _I_ wasn’t the one who chased after short, dark and handsome.”

Bulma felt her cheeks heat up, and she scowled at Chi Chi. “That is totally not what I was doing. I was saving his stupid ass.”

“Right.”

“I was. _Did_. We’re still alive because of me, so, you’re welcome.”

“Oh really? _Thanks_ ,” Chi Chi drawled, clearly not buying it. 

“It’s true,” Bulma grumbled. She sat down and filled in her friend on what had occurred. After she was done, Chi Chi’s face was aglow with amazement.

“He sounds really brave,” Chi Chi commented.

Bulma pouted, crossing her arms, loathing to admit anything nice about Vegeta if she didn’t have to. “His _one_ redeeming quality,” she said grudgingly. 

“Oh, and the fact that he’s drop dead gorgeous, rich and of noble birth means nothing to you?”

Bulma arched a brow. “How would it? I didn’t know.”

“Even the drop dead gorgeous part?”

Bulma pressed her lips together, refusing to answer. 

Chi Chi smiled. “Son told me a little about Vegeta as he carried me here. Did you know that Vegeta is the last remaining heir of his family and the Darcy estate? And General Frieza himself, of _the_ De Bourgh estate, sent Vegeta here. Apparently Frieza is grooming Vegeta to take over the outposts, but Vegeta doesn’t want that and is unhappy about the whole situation.”

“Hmff, that’s no reason for him to be such a dick,” Bulma grumbled, still adamant about hating the man. 

They spoke for a while longer, Chi Chi soon gushing over Goku again, clearly smitten, discussing everything she thought admirable about him until the late hour, excitement, and her injury caught up with her and she grew tired. Bulma redressed Chi Chi’s wound and let her sleep. It was getting late and she was feeling exhausted herself. She had an attendant set up a chaise for her, refusing a private room so that she could stay by Chi Chi’s side, just in case her friend needed her.

Bulma woke in the middle of the night, ravenous. She hadn’t eaten since lunch the previous day. Hoping it wouldn’t be too impolite, she checked on Chi Chi who was sleeping well, and crept downstairs to help herself to the kitchens.

Apparently she wasn’t the only one who’d had the same thought.

The cooling box door was open, and bathed in its glow was Vegeta, a pile of food already pulled out on the counter behind him, and he, still searching for more. He was dressed only in light pajama bottoms, his upper body topless but wrapped in bandages. Bulma blanched at the the sight of him and turned around to leave, hoping to sneak away before-

“You’re up late,” he commented.

She froze, wincing, and turned back to face him. “You too.”  

“A hole in the back makes it hard to sleep well,” he commented. Bulma frowned, unable to tell if he was just being blunt or blaming her for the wound. She eyed him surreptitiously, seeing he’d regained his color and was walking around comfortably unassisted. He had recovered from his earlier exhaustion. She noticed he still wore the ki guard over his arm. It didn’t look as though it could be comfortable.

“Do you always sleep with that on?” she asked before she could think better of prying.

He hitched a brow, looking down at the mechanical brace. Then he glanced at her. “What do you know about it?”

Bulma raised her chin haughtily. “Maybe more than you. Definitely more than you if you allow me to examine it.”

Vegeta snorted. “Like you messed with that scouter? Do you have any idea how expensive this equipment is?”

“Over nine trillion galts, last I checked,” Bulma replied confidently.

Vegeta froze, giving her a hard look. “… You’re not an ordinary brass mouse.”

Bulma glared at him, hating the way he threw that term around. A lot of her friends were considered ‘brass mice’ and she didn’t like the condescending tone he used every time he said it.

“… What _are_ you?” he asked.

Bulma grit her teeth. “Hungry.”

Vegeta narrowed his eyes, but splayed his fingers at the small feast he’d laid out on the kitchen counter, haughtily offering it to her. As if she needed _his_ permission. It wasn’t even his estate. She refused, turning to the cooling box and opening it, but Vegeta had already pulled out the most select choices of food. Damn him. She closed the door and glanced at him over her shoulder.

He was watching her with dark, amused eyes, smirking at her as he bit into a round, red fruit.

She gave up and investigated his pile of food, selecting the same red fruit he ate and bit into it. It was delightfully sweet and crisp, filling her mouth with juice.

For a while they ate in silence. It wasn’t what she could call uncomfortable, but Bulma still considered taking her leave early only to dismiss the idea a moment later; somehow that would feel like retreating, like _losing_ to Vegeta, and she was determined not to let the pompous man get the best of her. 

And she still couldn’t let the ki guard go, her eyes drawn to it as she filled her belly with food. Her family was wealthy, but 9 trillion galactic tokens, ‘galts’, was a lot of money just to buy a fancy toy that she wasn’t even licensed to use. She doubted she would get another chance to see one again. 

“Does it not come off?” she said, breaking the silence as an idea struck her. “Is it fused to your nerves?” she added, excited by the possibilities.

Vegeta scowled at her over the sandwich he had fashioned for himself. “No.”

“So why not take it off? It must be more comfortable to eat and sleep without it.”

“If I took it off to be comfortable, then I wouldn’t have had it on me when the saibamen attacked, and we wouldn’t be having this conversation. Because we’d be dead.” He bit into his sandwich and chewed, looking at her with hard eyes.

Bulma felt her face twist with annoyance. She’d never met someone so blatantly unpleasant. She had only asked a logical question, yet he had to throw it back in her face, didn’t he? She ate her own food, chewing sullenly. “Maybe you should sleep with a scouter on too then.”

“Maybe,” he said, and she couldn’t tell if he was sarcastic or serious.

The silence stretched out between them. 

“… It seems awfully inefficient,” she finally commented, needing to get in the last word.

His brow pulled down. “ _Excuse_ me?”

Bulma smirked, pleased to have caused him offense. “You were at your limit so quickly. What if there had been more enemies? What if it had gone on longer?”

“I wouldn’t have wasted so much ki had _someone’s_ scouter not caused me to do so,” he snapped at her. 

She shrugged one elegant shoulder. “Your using the wrong equipment _aside_ , the ki guard still seems rather poorly designed. I bet I could double the efficiency and strength put out.”

He snorted, disbelieving.

Bulma’s hands fisted, irritated that he didn’t give her the benefit of the doubt even for a _second_. What an unbelievable jerk.

Vegeta finished the last of his sandwich (what was that, his fourth?), his appetite as impressive as his physique — which Bulma had been trying very hard not to ogle — and he stood up. “Good night, Miss…”

Oh _no_ … He didn’t even remember her _name_?! Bulma barely contained her rage, her voice low as she grit back, “Bulma Briefs.”

“Right,” he drawled, smiling. “Good evening, Miss Briefs.” His voice purred over her name, and he left the kitchen, leaving her to stew over a kitchen counter still piled with food that she would now have to put away on his behalf, and a burning, wild vehemence for the man that she unfortunately owed her life to.

She didn’t sleep well that night.

 

* * *

~xox~

 

The next morning, an attendant came to fetch Bulma. She had a visitor. Chi Chi was still sleeping so Bulma headed downstairs to see who called for her. 

She didn’t know the man standing in the foyer. He was very tall and powerfully built, his long hair pulled back into a wild yet dashing ponytail. He was dressed in military blues, and when he saw her approach he smiled at her amiably.

“Miss Briefs?”

“Yes? And you are…?” Bulma asked. 

“First Lieutenant Raditz of the Wickham Estate. Pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he greeted, holding out his palm.

Bulma arched a brow and gave him her hand. Raditz smiled, pressing his thumb lightly over her fingers. He raised her hand to his mouth, and like Goku had with Chi Chi, merely gestured a kiss, not quite making contact; she could feel his breath on her fingertips, his hand strong and warm. He watched her, his eyes dancing mischievously. 

He was _exceedingly_ handsome. Bulma fought back a rising blush. She’d met his kind before. This Raditz liked to charm anything with boobs, she would wager. Still, she wasn’t opposed to the attention. It was certainly welcome after being called a brass mouse so much.

“What do I owe this pleasure?” she asked.

“Business, I’m afraid,” Raditz admitted, letting her hand go. “I’m here to get your assistance in repairing the wall.”

“Oh, of course… But, I don’t have any of my equipment,” Bulma apologized.

“We can stop by your estate on the way-”

“ _Raditz?_ ” A harsh voice interrupted. Bulma looked over, seeing Vegeta stalk into the entryway. He wore fitted pants, a white shirt and a dark, slender vest, far more dressed than he had been the previous night. Of course, he still wore his ki guard on his arm, because he apparently never took the damn thing off, lest he not be prepared. “The hell are you doing here? Who let you in?” Vegeta snapped, looking accusingly at the frightened attendant loitering by the door.

Raditz smiled benignly at Vegeta. “Now, now, Vegeta, it’s not _your_ house to be making such calls,” Raditz replied back.

“ _KAKAROT_!” Vegeta shouted into the house, his voice echoing off the walls in rage that could almost be seen. Bulma was startled by his vehemence. “I’M ABOUT TO MURDER A MAN IN YOUR HOUSE IF YOU DON’T GET DOWN HERE IN 10 SECONDS AND KICK HIM OUT!” 

There was a gentle touch on her elbow as Raditz pulled Bulma aside. “Perhaps you should depart, this might get ugly,” he said, still trying to smile, but it looked bitter.

Vegeta overheard, and he spotted Raditz’s hand on her arm, then looked between the two of them with growing disgust. “Do you _know_ each other?” he asked, his voice hoarse with barely suppressed outrage.

Bulma shook her head, alarmed at his ire. “No, we were just acquainted.”

“I’m here on official business of the General, Vegeta,” Raditz informed him.

Vegeta sneered. “Tell General Frieza I already sent his goddamn report.”

Raditz smiled smugly. “Not from you. From her,” he indicated Bulma. 

Vegeta looked surprised. “ _Briefs_? What could you possibly want from her?”

“Of course _you_ wouldn’t have bothered to look into such things since you consider them _beneath_ you,” Raditz replied, his amiable tone holding an underbite of disdain, “but Miss Briefs here, as well as being the heir to the most prominent house of this outpost and benefactor of most of the social events here, is also the lead inventor and engineer of the city’s mechanical defenses. There was a breach in the forcefield last night and we would like her expertise,” Raditz finished explaining just as Goku hurried down the stairs, having heard Vegeta’s commotion.

Vegeta looked utterly dumbfounded by this new information. He glanced at Bulma, seeing her in a new light, and Bulma couldn’t help tilting her chin up arrogantly, glad to finally put the pompous colonel in his place. 

“So it’s _your_ fault we were attacked,” Vegeta spat at her.

Bulma saw red.

She started screaming at him, but she could barely hear herself because Vegeta was screaming back, both of them yelling horrible things at each other. Goku intervened immediately, grabbing Vegeta by the shoulders and pushing him back. He said something to Raditz and a moment later Bulma felt someone gently take her by the waist and shepherded out of the Bingley’s estate. 

She was _livid_ , fuming, her hands balled into tight little fists that quivered, her cheeks flushed in anger and her eyes stinging with tears she refused to let fall. She was certain that the next time she saw Vegeta she was going to punch him in his stupid, scowling face. Hard.

“Well, I can see there’s no love lost there,” Raditz said amiably.

Bulma startled, forgetting she wasn’t alone. She looked up at the dashing young man, and the empathy on his face helped to quell her temper. She let out an angry breath, expelling her nerves as she tried to calm down.

“He is such an _ass_!” she vented. “I’ve never met anyone so insufferable!” 

Raditz chuckled. “You and me both. I’d say you hate the man almost as much as I do.”

Bulma glanced at him, surprised. “You do?”

Raditz gave her a wry smile. “We have… a history.”

They walked to the carriage that Raditz had arrived in, and he helped her into the back. He tapped on the ceiling and the mechanical horses started pulling them along the street as the driver steered.

“Would it be impolite to ask how you know Vegeta?” Bulma inquired. She couldn’t help herself. So far no one else wanted to acknowledge what a total jerk Vegeta was, but Raditz appeared to have a bone to pick with the man.

He smiled, but it looked sad. “No, I suppose not… There’s not really much to tell though. I’ve been connected with his family for a long time, so I can confidently say that Vegeta is proud and strong, and as such looks down on those weaker than him, which is pretty much everybody, myself included.”

Bulma huffed. She could believe it, the pompous jerk that Vegeta was.

Raditz looked out the window as they went. “Vegeta ordered me to carry out a mission several years ago. I tried my best, but… well… I didn’t succeed. I almost died, and in the process, failed the mission. He has never forgiven me for it. He tried to have me expelled from the military because of it.”

“No, that’s dreadful!” Bulma exclaimed, horrified. After all, who didn’t make mistakes? It was utterly unfair of Vegeta to expect that his subordinates be infallible, and to try and get them fired for it no less… “He’s abominable!”

“Truly,” Raditz agreed, smirking as he leaned in towards her. “And he’s _short_ ,” he added, making a face as if that were Vegeta’s worst offense.

Bulma laughed, then put a hand over her mouth, feeling a little bad, but not by much. Vegeta deserved it after all.

She and Raditz chatted amiably for the rest of the ride, stopping at the Bennet estate so that Bulma could change and gather her tools, and she was glad to see her home was unaffected. It appeared the attack on the city had been contained mostly to the city center only. When they drove through, both her and Raditz fell silent, observing the damage from the previous night. They finally arrived at an entry point to the underground, and Raditz helped Bulma step out of the carriage. She saw his face grow more serious as they entered the doorwell that would lead them down to the underground passages beneath the city.

“I hate to spoil the mood, but I have been instructed to investigate the cause of the forcefield’s failing,” Raditz informed her. “And I’ve been told you’re the best this planet has to offer.”

“True,” Bulma said, knowing it sounded like she was boasting, but the simple truth was, she _was_ the best, having even surpassed her father’s expertise a few years back. “I would also like to know what happened, because the wall was putting out some strange readings yesterday.”

“It was?” Raditz asked, surprised. “Forgive me, but I already looked at the log, there were no alerts issued.”

“Exactly,” Bulma said, frowning. “There were no alerts, but the East Sector was reporting a lack of steam.”

Raditz looked startled. “The East Sector?”

Bulma nodded. “Yes… why?”

Raditz was reluctant to speak, but finally confided, “That’s where the saibamen broke through.”

Bulma felt as if she had been punched in the gut. She had suspected as much, but having those suspicions confirmed was something else entirely. It was… devastating. Bulma stopped walking, putting a hand over her stomach, feeling queasy. “…I should have looked into it more, I could have prevent this…”

Raditz put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You couldn’t have known.”

Bulma looked up at him, her chest tightening. “How many people were killed?” she asked.

Raditz’s eyes slipped away. “There are no official reports yet.”

“Please. How many?” she begged quietly.

“…25 counted dead so far.”

Bulma turned away from him, covering a hand over her mouth, feeling tears burn and slip down her cheeks. Dozen of people were dead, more still likely to be found, some of whom had probably been friends, and she had been _this close_ to preventing it from happening. If only she had ignored Chi Chi, if only she had investigated the strange reading further, then she might have been able to fix the forcefield and prevent the saibamen from ever having attacked.

 _So it’s_ your _fault we were attacked._ Vegeta had been right… goddamn him.

She cried for a while until Bulma felt something soft brush her hand. Opening her eyes, she saw Raditz offering her a handkerchief. She accepted it with a wet thanks and wiped at her eyes and nose.

“Sounds awfully convenient, doesn’t it, that there was no alert issued for a malfunctioning forcefield, the very same night we were attacked,” Raditz finally commented.

Bulma nodded. “Very convenient.” 

He frowned, thinking. “…Inside job?”

Bulma thinned her lips. “That would be my suspicion, yes.”

“So then, I don’t see any reason to blame yourself. Had you fixed the problem, whoever was responsible would have probably found another way to circumnavigate you. They were determined to see this attack through,” Raditz told her sympathetically.

Bulma gave him a small, appreciative smile. He was kind to say as much.

Raditz continued to take the lead through the underbelly of the city. They had to pass through an area that had suffered severe damage during the attack, and a large, heavy pipe blocked the way. Raditz didn’t even pause, walking up to it and lifting it as though it weighed nothing.

Bulma knew it weighed hundreds of pounds, yet he lifted it one-handed. “How…?”

He smiled at her, and revealed the metal wrist bands he wore. “Strength bands,” he said smugly. “Most officers have them. Have you not seen Goku’s?”

Bulma shook her head. “No… but Vegeta has a ki guard.”

Raditz made a face. “Yes, well, he’s _special_ , isn’t he?”

Bulma smirked and walked under the pipe, and Raditz followed behind. They continued until they came to the point in the wall that was having the issues. “See if you can figure out why this sector isn’t getting steam,” Raditz instructed. “Let me know if you see any evidence of foul play. I need to report our suspicions to the General, he’ll want to hear about this. I’ll be right back.”

Raditz turned and left, disappearing to contact the General. Bulma headed to the control panel to check the readings. She reached into her pocket before realizing she didn’t have her scouter on her. In fact, she’d never gotten it back from Vegeta. Damn him. Now she would have to speak to that ass again in order to get it back. The idea of having to interact with Vegeta more had her wanting to kick the nearby pipes. 

Bulma distracted herself by doing what she did best, working with the machinery. By the time Raditz returned, she had already fixed the problem and pinpointed the terminal that had been tampered with.

“Here,” she said, showing him on a map. “This is where our insider cut the alarm that should have triggered when the East Sector lost steam. Perhaps you can focus your investigations there.”

Raditz nodded, then he looked at her and smiled. “You know, it’s pretty amazing.”

Bulma blinked at him. “What is?”

“That you’re even more clever than you are pretty.”

Bulma felt heat rise to her cheeks. She put her hand on her hip and gave him a stern look. “Are you flirting with me despite my overalls?” she asked, amused.

Raditz gave her a wicked grin. “I’m flirting with you _because_ of them.” 

Bulma looked away, flattered, but now wasn’t the time or place to be contemplating what someone like him could do to someone like her. The hot bowels of the underground were making her sweat enough as it was, and she felt a bead of sweat run down the side of her face, slipping down her throat. She wiped it away and swallowed thickly. “Well, perhaps you can flirt with me on the way back to the Bingley estate. I was taking care of my friend before you brought me here and I should probably check up on her.”

“Oh, my apologies,” Raditz replied, sobering. “Of course, thank you for your assistance. Allow me,” he said, and he placed a gentle hand at her waist and escorted her back out. Bulma knew she should brush him off, but honestly, it felt nice and comforting to have the attention of a gentleman, and Raditz seemed harmless enough. He was the total opposite of Vegeta in every way, and it was terribly welcome, especially after the screaming match she had gotten into with Vegeta earlier.

Raditz saw her back first to her own estate to gather some personal items, then to Goku’s. Thankfully, Vegeta wasn’t around when she arrived.

“Perhaps I can call upon you later, when your friend has recovered,” Raditz inquired.

Bulma smiled. “I don’t see why not. Maybe we’ll meet at the next ball?”

He gave her a roguish grin. “With bells on.”

When he left, Bulma went upstairs to check on Chi Chi, but found the bedroom empty. She paused, surprised. Chi Chi’s leg had been seriously hurt, she doubted Chi Chi would be able to walk on it for days yet. Bulma hunted down an attendant. “Do you know where my friend is?” she inquired.

“This way, Miss.”

The attendant led her to the back of the house and opened a door, her ears greeted with the sounds of grunting. Bulma stepped in, her eyes going wide at the sight of Vegeta and Goku sparring, naked but for some lightweight slacks, Goku’s billowing, Vegeta’s fitted. Goku also wore metal bands on his wrists, the same that Raditz had worn, and Vegeta of course still wore his ki guard, but what was surprising was that Vegeta no longer had any bandages on. Bulma’s eyes trailed over his muscular back, amazed to see only old scars and a large, angry red mark, but no sign of any healing wounds.

“Bulma!” 

Bulma looked to the side and saw Chi Chi sitting on a bench, appearing healthy and beaming at her.

Bulma walked over and sat down by her. “Chi Chi, did Son carry you here?”

“No. Just after you left he paid me a visit. I admit that he caught me weeping. I was in so much pain. He took one look at me and left. When he came back, he had some medicine that is meant only for officers, look!” Chi Chi raised her skirt and Bulma saw that her leg was no longer bandaged, the wound healed cleanly. Bulma could hardly believe it.

“That’s some amazing medicine,” she breathed in awe, looking back at Vegeta, assuming he had used the same medicine on his wounds, which explained the lack of bandages. Vegeta and Goku were trading blows in the empty room, circling each other and throwing punches, blocks and kicks, sweat trickling down their swollen muscles. They were both in incredible shape, Bulma didn’t think she had ever seen two finer male specimens. “Why are they fighting?”

“They’re training,” Chi Chi corrected her. “Goku invited me to watch.”

“‘Goku’?” Bulma asked with a raised brow.

Chi Chi blushed but waved at Bulma to hush as she continued to enjoy the show. They watched the two men fight. Their attacks were fluid, powerful, both men highly skilled. Goku threw a punch so fast Bulma couldn’t see it, she only knew that he had because Vegeta raised his arm before his face to block it. There was a sickening, metallic crunch.

“Argh! _Fuck_!” Vegeta swore and staggered back, clutching his arm.

“Oh, oops, you okay?” Goku asked, stepping towards him.

“Damnit, Son, _pay attention_! You’re too busy showing off to that goddamn girl,” Vegeta snarled, nodding in Chi Chi’s direction.

Goku laughed and blushed, rubbing the back of his head. “Ahaha, yeah, I’m not used to an audience. Is it broken?”

Vegeta looked at his ki guard and swore a string of curses, which presumably meant yes. “…! You goddamn _moron_. If you can’t fight without using your strength bands, then you don’t deserve the privilege of them. You don’t see _me_ blasting a hole through you, do you?”

“Hey, it was an accident,” Bulma said hotly from the sidelines, standing up and coming over to intervene. “Anyone can make a mistake.”

“Mistakes cost lives,” Vegeta snapped back at her coldly. 

Bulma narrowed her eyes at him. “Oh and I suppose you’ve never made any, Mr. Perfect?”

He narrowed his own eyes back at her. “I have,” he said heavily, and the confession surprised her. She heard Goku sigh but when she glanced at him, he looked away, not meeting her eyes.

Bulma looked back at Vegeta. “Let me see it,” she said, changing the subject, holding out her hand.

He sneered at her. “Going to kiss it better?”

Bulma’s fingers twitched. How much she would love to smack him. “No, but I can fix it. Don’t you remember what Raditz told you about my job?”

Vegeta bared his teeth. “You will _not_ speak that man’s name in my presence,” he told her, his voice low and threatening.

Bulma rolled her eyes. “Please. Would you show me your stupid ki guard before I change my mind?”

Vegeta finally raised his arm and she could see the metal had bent and cracked in various places on the gauntlet. Vegeta flipped the latches open and tried to pry the damaged gauntlet off. It didn’t want to come easily, in fact, it almost seemed to be stuck…

He grunted and finally the contraption popped free. Bulma couldn’t stop a gasp when she saw his arm underneath. It was _ruined_ , the flesh horribly burnt, blistered and scarred from where the metal had rested against his skin. Many of the wounds were new, but many were also old, long born, clearly a side effect of using the device.

Bulma looked at Goku, aghast. Goku’s face was also tense, though he hid it better than she did. “Vegeta,” he said, his tone soft, almost pitying. He hadn’t known either.

“Shut it,” Vegeta snapped at Goku.

“Does it hurt?” Bulma blurted out before she could think better of asking. Both Goku and Vegeta looked at her, Goku surprised, Vegeta annoyed. Bulma wished she had kept her mouth shut, but she wasn’t about to back down. “I mean… is this normal? Does it injure you every time you use it?”

Vegeta’s eyes narrowed, observing her with a guarded look. “Every time,” he admitted flatly.

Bulma swallowed, feeling pity blossom within her. No wonder ki guards were used so rarely in the military.

Vegeta’s eyes narrowed further and he thrust the gauntlet at her. “Here. You want it so badly, take it. What the fuck do I care, it’s broken now anyway, so you can’t fuck it up any worse.” 

Bulma took the gauntlet, giving Vegeta a nasty look, any pity she felt for him quickly quashed. “Gee, thanks. How _gracious_ of you.” She turned the gauntlet over in her hands, her mind already contemplating ways to improve it. “Oh, and I’ll need my scouter back too.”

“What?”

She frowned at Vegeta, impatient. “My modified scouter. You never gave it back, _genius_.”

He sneered at her. “I’ve no idea where your stupid scouter is. It must have fallen off after it nearly got me, and subsequently all of you, killed.” 

Bulma puffed out her cheeks with anger, trying to count to five before she burst with rage. “Listen. I can see you’re in pain, so I’m going to let that comment pass. Why don’t you use some of that magic medicine for your arm and maybe you’ll be a little nicer to people?”

“Magic medicine?”

“Yes,” Bulma said, ignoring the choking sounds Goku was making next to her. “The stuff Son put on Chi Chi’s leg…” her voice trailed off as she saw Goku frantically signaling for her to stop talking. _Oops_. Apparently that was supposed to be a secret…  Goku slapped a hand over his face as Vegeta turned his fury onto him.

“You gave _senzu oil_ to a _CIVILIAN_? Have you lost your fucking _mind_?”

“Aw, c’mon Vegeta,” Goku whined. “She was crying, and it’s my fault she got hurt after all.”

“God _damnit_ … Whatever, I never heard any of this!” Vegeta snapped, and he shoved past them both, storming out, the door banging closed behind him. 

In the wake of his dramatic exit, Bulma winced, looking back at Goku. “Sorry,” she apologized.

Goku gave her a lopsided smile. “Nah, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it, or him. He’s not so bad once you get to know him,” he added, but even Goku sounded uncertain. He gave Bulma a once over. “…To be honest, there’s something about you that really riles him up.”

“Lucky me,” Bulma mumbled under her breath. She waved the ki guard in her hand. “Welp, I had best take a look at this before Mr. Attitude changes his mind.”

She headed out and grabbed her tools to see if she couldn’t fix the gauntlet. It was, after all, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to examine a ki guard up close.

 

* * *

~xox~

 

A few hours later, Bulma’s mind was fit to burst with all she had learnt from playing around with Vegeta’s broken ki guard. As loathe as she was to admit it, Vegeta had provided her with an amazing learning experience. She had thought she had known just about everything there was so to know about the technology at their disposal, but this little powerful device had turned her ideas upside down on their head, and she was in heaven.

Fixing the gauntlet was easy. Learning how it worked wasn’t that much harder. But trying to improve upon the design… there was the challenge. Finally, after a few calls to her father to bounce some ideas off of, and having pulled the whole thing apart and put it back together, twice, Bulma was fairly confident that not only was it fixed, but better than before. Still, she wouldn’t know if it was truly working and improved until it had been tested, and the only one who could do that was…

“Ugh,” she said to herself, frowning in displeasure. She would have to talk to Vegeta again.

Gathering her courage, Bulma picked up the newly polished gauntlet and realized she had no idea where to look for the stubborn man. He appeared to be staying at Goku’s estate much as she and Chi Chi were… or was he just here a lot? Bulma was a little embarrassed to have no idea about the man’s situation. 

She walked around the house until she ran into an attendant and asked if they had seen Vegeta. They told her to try the training room she had been to before. Bulma did just that.

Opening the door Bulma walked in and saw the attendant had been right. Vegeta was in the room, alone this time, but just as undressed, still only wearing training slacks, his feet and upper body bare. He was performing a string of push-ups and had clearly been working out for some time, his skin sweaty, the ground wet with drops of perspiration. He barely glanced at her as she entered.

“The brass mouse has returned,” he said.

Bulma scowled, although dressed in her overalls and covered in oil and grease, she supposed she did look the part. She chose not to raise to his bait. “I’m done,” she announced.

“Good for you,” Vegeta replied. He grunted, shifting his weight onto one arm, putting the other behind his back. He continued his one-armed push-ups flawlessly. Bulma looked away, refusing to be impressed. 

“Don’t you want to try it out?” she asked, waving it in front of her.

“I’ve already requisitioned for a new one.”

“Oh… So I can keep this one?” Bulma said, and started to slip the guard over her arm.

That got a reaction at last. Vegeta glanced at her and as soon as he saw what she was intending, sprang to his feet. He was by her side in a heartbeat and snatched the gauntlet from her.

“Are you _suicidal_?! You don’t have a license!”

“Maybe I do!” she replied hotly.

“No, you don’t. There are only a dozen people who do and I know each and every one of them,” Vegeta snarled back. “Idiot woman!”

Bulma crossed her arms, fuming. “I’m very definitely not an idiot. I can handle a few blisters for science. Men aren’t the only ones who can tough it out, you know.”

“You think _this_ is from misuse?” Vegeta snapped, holding up his scarred arm. “ _This_ is what happens when you use it _correctly_. Just think about what happens when you don’t. Here’s a hint, there used to be twice as many people who were licensed to use ki guards as there are now, but they were weak and got sloppy. Does that paint a clear enough picture for you?”

It did, actually, but she wouldn’t admit that. “Whatever,” Bulma replied with forced flippancy. “I care more about the mechanics of it more than the use anyway. But if you’re too scared to try my modifications…”

He bared his teeth in a silent snarl. Vegeta snatched a rag she had half hanging out of a pocket and used it to wipe the sweat from his arm.

“Hey!”

He ignored her. He dropped the rag on the ground, then slipped the brace on, his arm still blistered and ruined. She saw him give only the tiniest of winces as he tried not to react to the pain. Once the buckles were snapped on, Vegeta flexed his fingers and arm, examining the fit. He didn’t say anything, and Bulma took that as a good sign, as Vegeta was more than likely to tell her if there was something wrong.

Then he turned on his heels and walked off. 

“Hey, where are you going?” she called after him.

“Outside. I can’t shoot this in here, can I?”

“Oh, right…”

“Idiot.”

“Ass.”

Bulma followed him outside, walking past Goku and Chi Chi who were sitting under a gazebo, sharing food and each other’s company. Vegeta didn’t even glance their way. 

He walked to the back of the garden where there was a strange fence, wrapped in copious amounts of wire. Vegeta stood back, aimed his arm, but paused, looking over at Bulma.

“You should step back.”

“Why?”

“Because if this thing explodes, there’s no reason you should die too.” Bulma’s eyes widened in surprise. Was he being… considerate? He turned away, facing forward. “I’d much prefer you live with the guilt,” he finished.

No. Of course not. _Asshole._

Bulma put her hands on her hips, not moving, confident in her work. Vegeta just grunted, then narrowed his eyes, focusing. The gauntlet made a faint humming sound right before Vegeta fired. The wall was struck with a tremendous _BOOM_ , and it dissolved into a cloud of smoke. Vegeta’s brows rose at the amazing devastation.

Bulma felt a smug smirk curl on her lips. “What is brass and copper to men with ki?” she mused aloud.

Vegeta flashed her a curious sidelong look.

Goku and Chi Chi came running over. “What happened? Is everyone okay?” Goku called out.

Vegeta glanced at his gauntlet, then at Bulma, then back at the devastation. 

Goku looked over too. “Did _you_ do that?” he asked Vegeta.

“…So it would seem.”

“That wall is supposed to _absorb_ your ki attacks. It always has before,” Goku said, bewildered.

“Well, we need a better one now,” Vegeta replied nonchalantly. He flexed his hand one more time, then gave Bulma a contemplative look. “Would you be able to duplicate these modifications on a second guard?”

Bulma shrugged a shoulder, taking on a haughty air. “If I felt _inclined_ to do so. Of course.”

“What is your price?” Vegeta asked her outright.

Bulma arched a brow. “Money doesn’t interest me.”

“I didn’t offer it. What do you want to trade for your services?” he explained.

She blinked, startled by his offer, caught off guard. What did she _want_ from him? What could she _possibly_ want from him? “I…”

“A ball!” Chi Chi blurted. Everyone turned to look at her, surprised. She blushed, but persisted. “A ball, here at the Bingley Estate. W-we should show everyone that we’re not broken by this recent attack. And… maybe we could collect money to help those who were affected? I think it would be a strong show of faith if the ball was held by one of our planet’s newest military personnel. Don’t you?”

Goku looked at Chi Chi, and a smile slowly crept onto his face. “Yeah. That sounds great! But only if you promise to stay and help me plan it, and give me every dance come the ball,” he requested, holding out his hand towards her.

Chi Chi blushed prettily, putting her hand in his. Goku raised it to his mouth, and this time actually brushed his lips against her fingers.

“Oh, _please_ ,” Vegeta gagged, looking away from their little display.

Bulma flashed him an irritated look. 

“You want to throw a goddamn party after half your city got blown to hell?” Vegeta asked, sounding disgusted.

Bulma scowled. “Well, what would _you_ have us do? Curl up in a corner and wait to die? We have to make do the best way we know how,” she snapped at him. She looked at Chi Chi and smiled encouragingly. “I think a charity ball is a swell idea.” Well, to be honest, Bulma was looking forward to another ball like she was looking forward to a hole in the head, but Chi Chi was right. They needed to stand united, and showing the galaxy they weren’t afraid, and raising money for the victims of the attack, was an excellent idea. She also had a promise to keep to Raditz…

Which reminded her. “So, I suppose _everyone_ will be allowed to attend?” she asked Goku.

He looked at her, surprised. “Well, of course, all will be welcome.”

“Planning to invite your little brass mice friends?” Vegeta mocked her.

Bulma smiled at him coldly. “Oh, I might. And my new First Lieutenant friend too.”

It took Vegeta a moment to realize who she meant. When he did, his face twisted into a black rage. “You cannot be serious. Do you have any idea who you’re even talking about?”

“A polite, sociable, amiable individual?” Bulma replied smoothly. “Only your opposite in every way?” 

Vegeta’s fist clenched as he took a step towards her. “Appearances are deceiving. You asked me before if I had made any mistakes. Putting my faith in Raditz was one of them. I would caution you not to do the same.”

“I couldn’t care less about your cautions,” Bulma told him flippantly. 

“Then you’re a _fool_.”

“And _you’re_ a prejudiced jackass, thinking you’re better than others,” Bulma replied arrogantly. “You think Raditz is weak because he failed a mission? Please. I think _you’re_ weak for not being the better man and giving him another chance.”

Vegeta’s eyes widened and he reeled back as if slapped in the face. Then his jaw tightened, and his hands fisted, his ki guard crackling with warning. Bulma stepped back, alarmed. Vegeta struggled but finally collected himself enough to speak. 

“Yes, I suppose you’re right. I do think he’s weak. He’s _pathetic_ , worth less than the shit on my boot. And you’re a foolish girl to let his glib tongue deceive you.” And with that, Vegeta pushed past her, stomping off, disappearing into the house.

“What was that ab-” she started to say, but she turned and saw Goku was giving her a rather disappointed look.

“You shouldn’t speak about things you don’t know,” Goku cautioned her.

It was shocking to see Goku act so coldly. Bulma suddenly felt like a contrite little girl getting scolded by her parents. She looked away, ashamed. “I… well, he…”

“I’ll see you ladies at dinner,” Goku said dismissively. He gave Chi Chi a little bow, then left to follow Vegeta inside the house.

Bulma hung her head in shame.

“Are you _trying_ to sabotage this for me?” Chi Chi said hotly when they were alone. Bulma opened her mouth but Chi Chi wouldn’t let her speak. “No, you are totally out of line, Bulma, and you know it. What is _wrong_ with you? I finally find someone nice and all you can do is argue with his best friend, pouring salt into some old wounds that are none of our business! If you can’t be civil, perhaps you should consider returning to your own estate before Goku throws you out, and me with you!”

Bulma swallowed thickly, hurt by her friend’s rejection but also knowing that she deserved it. All Chi Chi had ever wanted was to fall in love, and now that she had, she had to watch her best friend unintentionally come close to ruining it. If Vegeta was an ass, so was Bulma for constantly engaging him and being just as impolite. 

“I’m sorry, Chi Chi… I’ll do that.”

“Wait… you’re actually leaving?” Chi Chi asked, sounding suddenly uncertain by the prospect.

Bulma nodded. “I don’t trust myself around Vegeta. Everything he does makes my blood boil. Besides, my estate isn’t far, so I can visit easily… if you and Goku will still have me.”

“Of course!” Chi Chi said, hugging Bulma, already forgiving her. 

Bulma went inside and collected her items, but she wasn’t fast enough to make a clean escape. As she was bidding Chi Chi a last farewell at the front door, Vegeta and Goku happened by them.

“You’re leaving?” Goku asked, surprised.

Bulma gave an embarrassed smile. “Yes, well… I think I’ve overstayed my welcome,” she tried to joke, glancing at Vegeta. He huffed and looked away. 

“Oh, oh no no no, I’m… This isn’t what I meant to happen,” Goku hastened to apologize. “You’re more than welcome to stay. Please, I’m sure Chi Chi would like you stay.”

“Yes!” Chi Chi said, and bless her heart she at least sounded genuine.

“Vegeta too,” Goku added. 

Bulma raised a brow in disbelief. Goku really was clueless if he thought Vegeta wanted her to stay. She looked at the colonel, who was giving Goku the exact same incredulous look she could feel on her own face. Ironic that in _this_ they were united. 

Goku was insistent. “C’mon, Vegeta, it was all just a big misunderstanding, right? Tell her she’s welcome to stay.”

“It’s not _my_ fucking estate,” Vegeta grouched back, looking away sullenly.

“Vegeta!” Goku begged. 

“If she wants to leave, what difference is it to you? _She’s_ not the one you’re all doe-eyed over.”

Goku blushed and ran a hand through his hair, laughing awkwardly as he glanced towards Chi Chi, then looked back at Bulma. “Really, you can stay.”

“It’s fine,” Bulma said with a smile. “I have work to do, but I’ll be sure to visit a lot if I may, and you’re more than welcome to call on my estate too.”

“Oh, we will then!” Goku said enthusiastically, slapping Vegeta on the shoulder. “Won’t we?”

Vegeta sneered. “Thrilled,” he growled sarcastically.

Bulma bade them all farewell and climbed into a carriage to go back to her estate. The carriage ride home was a lonely one without Chi Chi, but Bulma’s mind kept going back to Vegeta in the garden, the rare look of anguish he had shown over her comments, haunting her ride back.

  

* * *

~0x0x0~

...sketch by  **[stupidoomdoodles](http://stupidoomdoodles.tumblr.com)**

 

**...art by[RedViolett](http://redviolett.tumblr.com/post/153656313772/broken-guard-next-fa-for-ladyvegeets-of), broken guard**

  

 **AN:** Beta-read by **Artephile / Marcella-Duchamp**.

Find more from LadyVegeets or follow her on **twitter, tumblr, FFnet, AO3.**

p.s. The other contestants who wrote for the challenge were, [BigBad-Wolfy](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12207360/1/Thieves-Pirates-and-Cotton-Candy-Dreams) , [Bitchii-Usa](https://m.fanfiction.net/s/12206155/1/Blue-Kissed-Sky) , [Verimol Lab](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1IKW09zVNniCAcdPLTolZGUnZ9lOsme_GLBJfhbXZZd8/edit) , [Mariana Oliveira](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12206382/1/Ms-Briefs) , [Fleur Licorne](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12207194/1/) , [Vera Lynn](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12207075/1/Revolution-A-Tale-of-Two-Cities-AU) and [FrogLady15](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12205999/1/) and you should read their entries too!

 

 


	3. OSS&P Part 03 (w/ FANART)

**Of Stars, Steam, and Pride**

**By LadyVegeets,** (beta-read by **Artephile / Marcella-Duchamp** )

**~Part 3~**

 

The next few weeks saw Bulma visiting Goku’s place regularly to provide Chi Chi with female company, and to show that there were no hard feelings towards Goku. Vegeta was a different case entirely. If he was present when she visited he would ignore her, skulking by in the shadows, throwing her a surreptitious glance before moving along and disappearing down a corridor. 

Soon enough an invitation arrived for Goku’s ball, to be hosted at the Bingley estate. There would be a silent auction, as well as a donation collected for those affected by the attack. Thankfully nothing more had come of the saibamen’s attack in the past few weeks. Bulma spent a lot of her time under the walls, checking and rechecking, but she couldn’t find any further anomalies or clues as to what, or who, had sabotaged the city’s forcefields on the night of the attack. 

A few days before the ball, an attendant fetched Bulma from her lab, telling her that she had a guest. She headed to the front door, pulling down her work goggles, and could hardly believe her eyes when she saw Vegeta standing in her foyer. She looked around but there was no sign of Goku or Chi Chi with him.

“Vegeta,” she greeted cautiously. She was also surprised to see he wasn’t wearing his military blues. Instead he wore a rather dapper black ensemble that highlighted his muscular build well. _He’s drop dead gorgeous,_ Chi Chi’s voice haunted her. Bulma swallowed and frowned, pushing the memory away.  “How can I help you?”

Vegeta looked her over and Bulma wished she had had the foresight to change. Once again he had caught her in besmeared engineering attire. He probably thought she always looked a complete mess. Vegeta offered her something: a long, white box.

Bulma stood dumbstruck. “A… present?” she asked, stunned.

Vegeta’s fingers tightened on the box, and he scowled at her, but she couldn’t help noticing the tips of his ears growing pink. “Hardly. It’s my new ki guard.”

“And?”

He struggled not to let his frustration get the best of him. He cleared his throat. “Goku is throwing the damn ball, and invitations were sent, including to your _best_ _friend_. Now it’s _your_ _turn_ to hold up your end of the bargain.” He thrust the box at her and she was forced to take it.

Ah, he wanted it modified. Bulma’s eyes flitted to his hand where she saw the glint of metal. “How has that one been treating you?” she asked, curiosity of her handiwork overruling her loathing of speaking to the man.

Vegeta looked at his hand, then at her. “Well enough.”

Bulma scoffed at his lukewarm reply, but let it go. “Follow me.”

She led him through her estate to her lab. Glancing back at him, she saw he took in her abode with keen, dark eyes. He caught her staring. “I wouldn’t have guessed you actually came from money,” he said.

Bulma breathed in through her nose, struggling not to take offense at everything he said. “My father _is_ a genius,” she replied, facing forward once more. “And so am I.”

“Hn.”

Dick. 

They reached her lab and Bulma made some space at her work bench to unpack Vegeta’s new ki guard. She frowned when she pulled it from the box. “… This is left handed.”

“Yes.”

“But you’re right handed… Aren’t you?”

“So?”

“…Wait, are you planning on _dual-wielding_?” Bulma asked him, alarmed.

Vegeta just stared at her stoically. Despite herself, Bulma was impressed. She had never heard of anyone dual-wielding ki guards before. It would normally be a suicidal concept. The technology was dangerous to use even for trained individuals. Using two guards at once could be life threatening… But she _had_ modified his guard to be more efficient. Was Vegeta confident he could now use two guards for the physical cost of one? It was extremely risky… and at the same time Bulma felt flattered that Vegeta put that much faith in her modifications. She watched form the corner of her eye as he walked around her lab, examining her other projects and sketches. He stopped to admire an ornate metal vest she had been working on.

“Do you like it?” she asked after he had been staring at it for a solid five minutes.

“What is it?”

“Something I’ve been working on. A ki vest.” 

He looked at her, surprised, and she smirked, pleased to have caught his attention. He glanced back at the vest. “How does it work?” he asked.

She stood up, unable to resist a chance to show off one of her latest inventions. “Well, it doesn’t, _yet_ , it’s just a prototype. But perhaps soon enough, all you boys in blue will be wearing one,” she teased, poking him in the arm. He frowned at her and folded his arms in front of his chest.

“Explain.”

“It’s similar to your ki guard,” she said. “It draws out your inner energy, but instead of focusing it into an attack beam like the ki guard does, this will focus your energy into defense, similar to the forcefields we use on the planets and spaceships.”

Vegeta’s brow furrowed as he considered her idea. “That will get very exhausting,” he said after a while.

“Not with _my_ modifications,” Bulma assured smugly. “Haven’t you noticed that using my updated ki guard has been less draining?”

Vegeta looked away. “…Perhaps.”

“Well, the vest will be even _less_ taxing, I promise,” Bulma said confidently.

Vegeta huffed. “But it’s not finished?”

Bulma gave a nonchalant, one shouldered shrug. “Well, the mechanics of it are finished. But I don’t have anyone to test it on to see if it performs the way I would like. You know as well as I that only those specially trained and licensed can use ki equipment.” 

Vegeta’s finger tapped on his arm. _Tap-tap. Tap-tap_. Then he unfolded his arms and started unbuttoning his jacket. “I’ll try it.”

 Bulma cocked her head, narrowing her eyes at him. “Oh? What makes you think I’ll let you.”

He paused, half unbuttoned, his eyes black as coal as he regarded her. In a dizzying heartbeat Vegeta darted forward, trapping her against the table, his arms braced either side of her. He leaned in, smirking, inches from her face. “You’ll let me, because you _want me to_. Who else do you have?”

 _Fuckfuckfuckfuck_ … Bulma felt her heart thump loudly, trying to beat right out of her chest. She swallowed nervously, her fingers clutching the table she was pressed up again. She could feel the heat of his body radiating off him, and his words dangled between them, full of arrogance and mockery…

And worst of all, _truth_.

“I-I’ll ask Son,” she said, her voice coming out embarrassingly weak.

“Ask him then,” Vegeta goaded, leaning in closer and Bulma dipped away in response. “See if he can entertain anything else that isn’t your raven-haired friend. And while you’re trying to convince him, I’ll take it from you, with or without your consent.”

Bulma felt a shiver run through her. Her breath leaving her in a soft gasp.

Vegeta grinned, leaning in even more, and Bulma had nowhere else to go, no more room to escape. He pressed right up against her - and reached around her to pluck the vest from its stand. He stepped away. Bulma let out a breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding, feeling hot and frazzled and _confused_ , and that made her upset because she was normally better in control of herself. 

“Why can’t you just _ask_ instead of being an ass?” she asked him hatefully.

“I’m used to getting my way,” he replied with a suave smirk.

“I can tell,” she spat, watching with irritation as he slid off his jacket. 

He paused, looking up at her from under dark lashes. “Does it need to be touching skin?”

Bulma refused to be intimidated. She met his eyes, lifting her chin. “Yes.”

Vegeta held her gaze. He kept holding it as his fingers slid to the buttons of his charcoal shirt, and he started slowly undoing them. “Seems like a design flaw,” he told her wryly.

Bulma felt her cheeks grow warm as he undressed. She frowned at herself, annoyed that she was feeling flustered when she had already seen him without his shirt on several times. “It’s just a prototype,” she reminded him.

He hummed and finished unbuttoning. He pulled the shirt off, the fabric peeling back and revealing a sight she was growing all too familiar with, hard, rippling muscles and dark scars. He tossed his shirt aside and pulled the vest on, then looked down at all the clips and buckles on the side, hesitating.

Bulma approached. “Let me.”

He frowned but allowed her to assist. He stood still as she closed all the clasps. “This wouldn’t do in a battle situation,” he commented.

“What difference would that make to you? You would sleep in the damn thing day and night.”

There was no response. Bulma looked up at him and nearly startled when she saw that he was watching her. His expression was neutral, but his eyes regarded her with close interest. She swallowed and looked back down at her fingers as they worked the clasps. 

“You’re staring,” she grumbled.

“So? Does it make you uncomfortable?”

“Yes.”

“…Why?” he finally asked.

Bulma looked back at him, once more meeting his eyes. He almost sounded sincere, almost appeared earnest, but that couldn’t be right because Vegeta was a self-centered ass. He had to be mocking her, surely.

She pulled a clasp as tight as it would go. He grunted in pain and gave her an agitated look.

She smirked at him. “There.” She stepped back to admire her handiwork, and to dodge answering his question. 

Vegeta looked down, fingering the craftsmanship. “How does this work?”

“Good question,” Bulma admitted, only knowing the theories of ki technology, not the practice. “Try charging it the same way you do your guard.”

Vegeta looked doubtful. “Won’t that charge my guard too?”

Bulma shrugged. “Beats me. You’re the ki expert.”

Vegeta gave her an irked look. “It’s your invention!”

“Fine, if you don’t want to experiment, I can take it off-”

“Stand back,” he warned her impatiently. Bulma did.

Vegeta closed his eyes, going still in concentration. There was suddenly an energy in the room, a feeling of something impending, the small hairs on Bulma’s arms and neck rising. Vegeta scowled, concentrating hard, and then suddenly there was a _WOOSH_ and a small shockwave knocked papers off desks and Buma’s hair blew back. When she blinked open her eyes, Vegeta was standing in a golden shroud.

“Remarkable…” he said, raising his hand and admiring the aura around him.

“It works!” Bulma cried out, elated, a grin of excitement splitting her face. She stepped up to his side, reaching out her hand to touch the forcefield.

“No-!” he tried to warn, too late.

 _ZAP_!

It stung and burnt sharply, like ice and fire at the same time. Bulma yanked her hand back with a yelp of pain.

“You _idiot_!” Vegeta snapped at her as his aura died. He stepped towards her and without asking grabbed her hand to inspect it. Her fingers were swollen and red, bleeding, the skin split. His hold tightened on her wrist, and he shook her arm angrily. “Why would you touch it?!” he asked hotly, looking at her with accusing eyes.

Bulma blinked back tears of pain. “The scientist in me had to know,” she laughed even as she wanted to cry. It had been foolish, but part of her was still overjoyed that her crazy experiment had worked so well. Her fingers hurt terribly though.

Vegeta made an agitated sound. He dug in his drawstring pouch and produced a small glass vial. He yanked the cork out with his teeth and dropped some of the oil onto her fingers.

Bulma winced in pain. “Ouch. What are you doing?”

“Fi-ksin’ it,” he mumbled around the cork.

Bulma felt her fingers tingle and she looked down in wonder as she watched the broken skin seal as the swelling went down. Her eyes went wide. “What…?”

Vegeta let her hand go and re-stoppered the vial, putting it away, not meeting her eyes.

Bulma examined her hand. It was nearly good as new, just a little sore, bruised at worst. So this must be the infamous senzu medicine. The same medicine Vegeta had been appalled to learn Goku had used on Chi Chi, and Chi Chi’s injury had been far more serious than hers.

Bulma stared at Vegeta in amazement. “…Why?”

“You can’t modify my new guard with a damaged hand, can you?”

Oh. Right. Of _course_ that would be his reasoning. Bulma looked away, wondering why she felt… disappointed. “…It’s always business with you, isn’t it?” she asked softly.

Vegeta’s brow furrowed, and he started undoing the clasps on his vest. “That’s all I know.”

Bulma had nothing to say, and neither did he, so she returned to her work bench and shoved her confused thoughts deep down, forgetting them by wrapping herself up in modifying Vegeta’s second ki guard. 

“Can I see the ki guard you’re wearing?” she asked after a few minutes, wanting to reference what she had modified last time.

Vegeta huffed but with a few deft flicks of his fingers, unlatched the gauntlet and pulled it off for her. It came off smoothly this time, and Bulma saw there were no fresh wounds on his arm. Her modifications had worked, making the guard not only stronger and less draining, but also less likely to inflict damage on its user. She smiled secretly to herself as she accepted the gauntlet.

“What?” he snapped at her, catching her smile.

“Just glad to see it’s working,” she said, pleased.

Vegeta glanced at his arm then at her, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. “Why are you here?” he asked, surprising her.

Bulma blinked at him, perplexed. “I… What? You asked me to-”

“No, not this room. _Here_ , on this outpost,” Vegeta explained, staring at her with an unnerving, piercing gaze. “Your talents are being wasted here.”

Was he… complimenting her? “I, well… this is my home,” she said, not really sure how to answer him.

“And that’s satisfying for you?” he asked.

His question struck her through the heart like a blade. It was a question she had been carrying around with her for weeks now, months… _years_ if she was being honest, but she had never really dared ask it of herself, let alone contemplate an answer. And now this insensitive ass was asking her so directly, like he had any place to question her or hear her answer.

“I’m sorry, I’m not good at multitasking. Do you want me to modify this, or do you want to have a chat?” she huffed at him, her heart in her throat, feeling suddenly claustrophobic by his inquiries and by the implications his questions held.

“The gauntlet,” he answered after a long pause.

Bulma let out a relieved breath and went back to work. 

“…Sorry if I upset you.”

She nearly dropped the tiny screwdriver in her fingers, and gave Vegeta a startled, pained look. _What_ did he just say? And _why_? Why was he doing this to her, making her all confused? It felt so out of character for him, but then again, maybe she didn’t know him as well as she thought… Bulma couldn’t answer him, but he didn’t seem to want one, and after a few awkward moments passed, Bulma swallowed and went back to tinkering with his gauntlets, and he let her do so in peace.

“You don’t have to stay,” she told him after half an hour, by which point he had dressed back into his clothes and found a seat, his arms folded over his chest, his head resting back against the wall, eyes closed. 

“Hn.”

Bulma rolled her eyes and that was the extent of their conversation until she finished her work. Once done, she stretched her arms above her head before getting up, holding both gauntlets out to him. “Ta-da!”

He opened his eyes and sat up, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. He took the gauntlets and slipped them on, fastening the latches before examining his arms, bending and fisting his hands experimentally. A small smile formed on his face.

“Good fit?” she asked.

“Yes,” he agreed. He stood up.

Bulma looked around her lab. “Well, I guess I should have thought to build something you could test them on…”

“No need,” Vegeta cut her off. He raised both hands, palms up, and frowned, concentrating. Suddenly two balls of blu-ish white light formed over his palms. Bulma’s eyes widened in wonder.

“Wow… I didn’t know they could do that.”

He smiled at her smugly, his face shadowed by the ki’s light. “They can’t, normally. I’ve been experimenting with your modifications. They allow for far better ki control than the original model.”

“That’s impressive,” she said, meaning it, amazed by his drive for self improvement. She stepped closer to him, drawn to the light like a moth to flame.

“ _Don’t_ touch it,” he cautioned her sternly. “I doubt senzu medicine would fix what these can do to your delicate skin.”

“Mm,” she agreed, mesmerized by the ki balls. She glanced at him and saw that he watched her, his eyes glowing in the blue light. She kept his gaze, his eyes as magnetizing as the light.

“…Watch this,” he said, his voice soft. He tilted his palms, and the ki balls started drifting towards each other. They swallowed each other, billowing into one larger ball. Vegeta frowned with concentration, and the ball started floating upwards, spinning lazily between them.

“It’s _beautiful_ ,” she breathed with awe.

He looked at her, and the corner of his mouth turned up. “It could kill hundreds.”

“So? It’s still beautiful,” she insisted.

“Yes,” he agreed.

The ball started to shrink and sink back towards his palms. He closed his hand over it, and the light snuffed out with a soft crackling from the gauntlet. When he was sure it was safely extinguished, he looked back at her.

Bulma realized how close they were, standing together, bare inches apart. She cleared her throat and looked away. “You’re clearly very skilled with ki,” she said awkwardly.

“There’s room for improvement,” he replied, his voice still soft.

“You’re not easily impressed, are you?” she said, stepping away, trying to put a barrier up between them again, feeling oddly exposed. 

“No.”

Bulma cleared her throat again and started shuffling her papers about on her desk to look busy. “Well, I hope those work out for you. Let me know if there are any issues. You know the way out, right?” She glanced at him and saw he had thankfully stopped staring at her, rolling down his sleeves over his newly modified gauntlets.

“You will be attending the ball?” he asked.

Bulma arched a brow. “Yes. Chi Chi would murder me if I didn’t attend.”

“Kakarot threatened me similarly,” he said, scowling at the memory. 

Bulma laughed, the idea of Goku harassing Vegeta somehow funny to her. Vegeta gave her an irritated look, but he didn’t ask her what she found amusing, and she didn’t bother to explain.

He started to leave, then paused by the door, his fingers resting on the doorframe. “…Thank you for your assistance.”

Bulma felt her heart skip a beat. She looked away. “Well, I would hate to be called a liar for not holding up my end of the bargain.”

“…Of course. Good day, Miss Briefs.”

“Vegeta.”

He left. Bulma glanced at the empty doorway, but his absence didn’t make her feel any more at ease. His whole visit had been terribly bewildering. She sighed, rubbing her thumb over her freshly healed fingers, and went back to work.

* * *

~xox~

 

The evening of the ball arrived, and Bulma found herself standing in front of a full length mirror staring critically at her reflection. It had been a while since she had taken such great care of her appearance; if she wasn’t working in her lab, she was in the sweltering underbelly of the city, fixing, upgrading and implementing a new system to the wall, trying to make it as secure and tamper-proof as possible. As such, she had been living in her overalls as she dealt with copious amounts of dust, grease, oils, and one time, fetid water when a pipe burst over her.

So tonight Bulma reawakened her femininity, dressing in a brand new gown of creamy lace and carmine red that she had specially made. Her hair was put up in elegant pins, with loose curls hanging artfully about her face and neck, her face painted in simple yet striking make up to accentuate her features, her unique eyes especially bright. She regarded herself carefully, and finally smiled.

Perfect. She was ready to win hearts and break them just as easily. 

Her eyes drifted to the table where a bouquet of flowers rested in a vase. Raditz had sent them the day before, along with a note: _I hope to steal a dance or more from you tomorrow evening, if I could be so fortunate_. Bulma smiled to herself. Then it faded when she realized who else would be there: a certain grumpy colonel. Bulma hoped Vegeta and Raditz could suffer to be in the same place together without causing a scene. Of course, she hoped she and Vegeta could do the same, for Chi Chi’s sake at least. Where once that might have been an impossible expectation, now Bulma was less certain. Her last meeting with Vegeta in her lab hadn’t been a disaster. In fact, it had almost been pleasant. Yet instead of finding that reassuring, Bulma felt more unnerved than ever.

She pinched her nose and sighed. No, enough fretting. She was going to have a good time, and that was that.

Bulma climbed into her family’s carriage and its mechanical horses carried her to the Bingley estate. There were already a lot of people by the time she arrived. An attendant took in the ki vest she had brought along that she intended to put up for bidding at the silent auction. Once inside, Bulma didn’t have much trouble finding her best friend. Chi Chi was glowing, looking radiant as she hung off Goku’s arm, the center of attention as everyone came to greet the host and make small talk with him and his charming female guest. Bulma pushed her way to the front, embracing Chi Chi in a hug.

“I’m so happy you could come!” Chi Chi exclaimed, squeezing her tightly.

“Me too,” Bulma replied, giving her friend a squeeze back before they separated. “You look lovely, Chi Chi. And this ball looks to be a success already.” 

Chi Chi laughed, overjoyed. “I hope so! I’ve been working for weeks on all the preparations!”

“I can tell,” Bulma said with a smile. They chatted for a while before Bulma’s stomach got the best of her, and she left Chi Chi to socialize so that she could saunter over to the buffet and eat. Bulma had just popped a tasty hors d’oeuvre into her mouth when she saw someone come up behind her, a flash of blue in her peripherals.

“A woman with a healthy appetite. Be still my heart.” 

Bulma turned and smiled up at Raditz who was dressed handsomely in his formal military blues. 

He grinned at her, his eyes raking down her form. “Miss Briefs, might I say you look tastier than this buffet?”

Bulma finished her food and gave him a wry smile. “You might. But flattery is cheap.”

“Fun too,” he agreed.

Bulma laughed. He was a huge flirt, but she didn’t mind at all.

“You wound me,” he continued, putting a hand over his chest. “I’d hoped you’d wear one of my flowers.”

“They look far prettier in a vase than on me,” Bulma told him.

Raditz tutted. “You don’t do yourself justice.” From his own jacket pocket he plucked his boutonniere and offered the white flower to her. “If I may be so bold?”

Bulma smirked. “Like I could stop you at this point.”

“Ah yes, beleaguered surrender, my favorite.” He gently threaded the flower behind her ear, and the backs of his fingers brushed against the side of her neck. Her skin prickled pleasantly, running all the way down her spine. “There. Lovely.”

Bulma touched the flower and smiled. “You are shameless, Raditz.”

He grinned and winked at her. “Only around pretty women.”

They ate and spoke, talking about the wall’s defenses. Raditz’s investigations hadn’t found anything new, and Bulma was in the same boat. When that conversation expired, they discussed Raditz’s travels, his tours to the other outposts in the galaxy. Bulma listened, rapt, living vicariously through his stories, feeling a kernel of jealousy build in her chest as he regaled her with tales of other flora, fauna and cultures. At some point his hand found its way to the small of her back, resting there comfortably as he spoke to her. Even as other pretty women came and went, Raditz only had eyes for her, and Bulma felt flattered. Perhaps she had pegged him wrongly as a playboy…

Their conversation was interrupted when an attendant approached and whispered something in Raditz’s ear. Raditz made a face of displeasure at the news, his mouth thinning as the attendant left.

“Forgive me, duty calls,” he said with a lamented sigh.

Bulma felt a flicker of disappointment. “Oh? Work?”

“Yes. The General can be a real buzz kill.” Raditz paused, and his face twisted in concern. “Er, don’t tell anyone I said that. The man has no sense of humor.”

Bulma laughed softly. “Your secret is safe with me.”

Raditz winked at her. “I thought as much. Hopefully I should only be gone an hour. Perhaps I can return in time to claim that dance?” he asked, leaning in with a hopeful smile.

Bulma smiled back. “We’ll see. Only if another handsome gentleman doesn’t sweep me off my feet in the meantime,” she teased.

Raditz pouted. “No matter. I’ll just beat him up. It’ll put my military training to some good use for once.” He took her hand, raising it and pressing his lips to her fingers. “Don’t cry too much while I’m gone. I know it’s sad to see me go, but you’ll love watching me leave,” he winked at her.

Bulma laughed loudly. “You really _are_ shameless,” she said definitively. 

He shrugged and grinned impishly, then walked off with a swagger. Bulma smirked to herself, sipping a drink and admitting that he was right. She did enjoy watching him leave.

“Bulma!” 

She nearly dropped her drink. Oh no… no… not _him_.

She tried to hide a wince as she looked over, and sure enough saw Yamcha hurrying over to her. Great, just great. Not only had her date deserted her, but now a man, who had once awkwardly proposed to her (and whom she had turned down), was imposing himself upon her. So much for this ball being fun. “Yamcha,” she greeted with forced politeness.

“Bulma, you look amazing. As always, haha!” he laughed a little too loudly.

Oh, even better. He was drunk. She wished that she was too. “Yamcha, I haven’t seen you at these events in a while.”

“Well, this one is for a good cause, right?”

Bulma arched a brow. Yamcha was hardly the philanthropic type. The Collins Estate was often in more debt than not, making charity a low priority for them. “Yes, of course,” Bulma replied, getting an idea to disengage from him. “Speaking of which, I should check up on the silent auction…” 

“Oh, what a nice idea,” he beamed at her, tagging along.

Bulma bit back a groan. She walked through the crowd at a brisk pace but Yamcha followed doggedly at her heels, refusing to lose her or take the hint. They reached the silent auction, and Bulma tried to find something interesting she could bid on, simply to help give money to the cause, and to not speak with Yamcha. She finally found a large, spherical ball of crystal rock, an interesting orange color. It wasn’t any precious material that she knew of, probably worth no more than a few hundred galts, if that. Still, it would make for a pretty paperweight. Bulma pulled out a card, wrote down one million galts, and then slipped the paper into the jar. 

“So did you put up anything for the auction?” Yamcha asked her, having been waiting for her the whole time.

Bulma sighed. “Yes. The vest,” she said, waving a hand in its general direction.

“Oh, neat. Perhaps I’ll bid on it.”

Bulma gave him a wooden smile. She hugged an arm about her middle, her other had still holding her drink, feeling miserably uncomfortable. She liked Yamcha too much to just tell him to get lost, but she didn’t like him enough to put up with his awkward attempts at being sociable.

He started talking to her about sports, which she hated, and he should have known she did if he had ever paid her any attention. Suddenly she saw a flash of blue in the corner of her eye, and a voice asked, “Care to dance?”

“Yes!” she exclaimed excitedly, turning around in relief, thinking Raditz had finished his business sooner than expected.

Her face fell when she saw who it was. Vegeta stood behind her, dressed in his military finery. 

He saw her reaction, and his jaw tightened. “Expecting someone else?” he asked flatly. 

Bulma opened her mouth but nothing came out. She was thankfully spared the embarrassment of choosing to tell him a lie, or the horrible truth, when Yamcha butt in, holding out a hand to Vegeta.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance. I’m a very old friend of Bulma’s.”

“‘Bulma’?” Vegeta repeated, glancing between the two, his eyes narrowing. Bulma winced and looked away, mortified by Yamcha’s behavior. 

Yamcha saw that Vegeta wasn’t going to shake his hand, so he retracted his, but it didn’t dampen his spirits as he turned to her. “Yes, well, Bulma dear, if you won’t take up _his_ offer to dance, perhaps you would do me the honor of-”

“I said yes, didn’t I?” Bulma cut Yamcha off, hastily taking Vegeta’s arm. She tried to lead Vegeta away, but he glared at her, unmoving. She gave him pleading eyes, but he returned her look unfeelingly, irritated that she had reacted so poorly to his offer.

 _‘Please’_ , she mouthed at him, her eyes darting to Yamcha and then back to Vegeta, her fingers tightening over his arm.

His jaw clenched as he looked away. “Tch.” He placed a gloved hand over hers and without so much as a parting word to Yamcha, led them towards the dance floor, leaving Yamcha behind on the sidelines to watch.

“Thank you,” she said once they were away.

Vegeta gave her a sidelong glance, his face still stormy. “Who was that idiot?”

“An old acquaintance who proposed to me once,” Bulma said, wincing at the memory. It had been extremely awkward, and despite the humiliation of being turned down, Yamcha had never quite given up on her.

“Him?” Vegeta asked, amazed. “That weakling proposed to you?”

Bulma looked at Vegeta, frowning. “Do you consider everyone in terms of strength?”

“What else is there?”

“Only a million other qualities. Besides, what are you doing asking me to dance if you think I’m a ‘weakling’?” she asked him accusingly.

Vegeta frowned, his gaze slipping away. “Did I say such a thing about you?” he gritted out, his voice tight with annoyance.

“Well, if I had to fight anyone here I’d surely lose. Doesn’t that make me weak in your eyes?”

“Tch. Strength is not just physical. And why would _you_ have to fight anyone? That’s ridiculous, that’s why I’m- the _military_ are here,” he replied flatly. They reached the edge of the dance floor and Vegeta slowed to a stop. He dropped his hand from hers. “I think your ex has given you up for now,” he told her.

Bulma glanced behind them and sure enough saw Yamcha chumming it up with some other pretty woman. Typical. She looked back at Vegeta, his brow still pulled into a scowl. “Right… Thank you for helping me.”

“It’s my duty.”

Of course, his ‘duty’. Vegeta had helped her not because he wanted to, but because he had to. Bulma let his arm go and though they stood only inches apart, the distance between them felt immense. They watched the other couples on the dance floor, neither knowing what to say to the other or how to politely disengage. Besides, something was bothering her.

“…Why _did_ you ask me to dance?” she asked again, seriously this time. She couldn’t even imagine Vegeta dancing.

“What difference does it make?” He stated curtly. “You’re clearly opposed to the idea.”

Bulma did feel bad about how she had reacted. Still, she and Vegeta weren’t exactly on the best terms. How _was_ she supposed to react to his offer? “If memory serves correctly, the last time I asked you to dance, you were rather rude about it too.”

“…You look much better tonight than you did then.”

“ _Excuse_ me?” Bulma asked, her temper rising. “Are you saying I was unpresentable then?”

“That’s… not…” he struggled to express himself.

Bulma huffed impatiently. “Not _what_? Where’s your arrogance gone, or can you only be an ass to me when I look like a brass mouse?”

“Miss Briefs!” Goku called out amiably, coming over to them.

“Ohthankgod,” Vegeta mumbled under his breath. Bulma flashed him an irritated look, but he was already walking off, using Goku’s appearance to escape. Goku watched Vegeta leave with a raised brow.

“Oh, sorry, did I interrupt…?”

“You know us, just having a _friendly_ chat,” Bulma told Goku sarcastically.

“Oh,” Goku said, his face falling. “I thought…” he trailed off, looking after Vegeta again with a worried look.

“Thought what?” she asked. 

Goku looked back at her, his mouth tilting up wryly. “Just, well… with the way he nearly tripped over himself when he saw you tonight-”

“Pft. Because I didn’t look like a total mess for once?” she cut in snidely. 

Goku sighed, giving her a disappointed look. “No. I really wish you would give him the benefit of the doubt more. Vegeta is actually trying, in his own way. Maybe you don’t see that because you don’t know him like I do. But just because he isn’t sociably adept doesn’t make him a bad guy.”

Bulma pouted and looked away, not happy that Goku was chastising her again. “I think you see him through rose colored glasses,” she grumbled.

Goku smiled. “Yeah, maybe. But you are purposefully trying to misunderstand him.”

“I don’t think it’s misunderstanding someone to expect them to be moderately polite,” she sulked.

Goku shrugged. “Perhaps. But Vegeta’s had a… rough life. He’s had little experience with social niceties.”

“That’s crap,” Bulma huffed. “And you’re not doing him any favors by making excuses for him. He’s perfectly capable of being polite when he wants to be. He thanked me for his ki guard modifications after all, if he can do th-”

“He _what_?” Goku asked, stunned.

Bulma blinked, surprised. “What?”

“He _thanked_ you?” Goku asked, looking as though his mind had imploded.

Bulma gave him an uncertain look. “Well, yes…”

“I’ve _never_ heard Vegeta thank _anyone_.”

Bulma looked at Goku uncertainly, her heart doing a funny little flutter. She scowled against it, folding her arms. “W-well, see, that’s my point. You just let him get away with being a rude, impolite grump. How is he supposed to learn if you don’t-”

 _WREEEE! WREEEE! WREEEE!_  

A high-pitched alarm started sounding, cutting through the music and chatter of the ball. Everyone fell deathly silent, listening to the alarm, tense after the recent attack on the city.

Bulma was the quietest of all. The alarm told her something was wrong with the wall.

And then a voice came over the city’s loudspeakers, the man’s voice high pitched, frantic, almost sobbing. “CALLING ALL LEVEL ONE ENGINEERS TO WALL TERMINALS. MAY-DAY, MAY-DAY. UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS TO WALL DEFENSES. ATMOSPHERE VENT TO OCCUR IN APPROXIMATELY 20 MINUTES. CANNOT OVERRIDE. I REPEAT, CANNOT OVERRIDE. ATMOSPHERE VENT _IMMINENT_. MAY-DAY, MAY-DAY!!!”

Panic exploded amongst the guests. People screamed and began shouting. Everyone started running, shoving people out of their way as they desperately tried to escape the estate. 

“Chi Chi!” Goku cried out, desperately searching the crowd for her. “Follow me!” he called to Bulma, and dove into the madness of people running about.

Bulma tried to follow, but she ha only taken a couple of steps when a panicking person barreled into her, knocking her to the side. She barely kept her footing, catching herself on a support column. By the time she ha regained her balance, she had lost sight of Goku. 

 _WREEEE! WREEEE! WREEEE!_  

The alarm and bells kept sounding, earsplittingly loud. Bulma was horrified to think of what would happen if the atmosphere was allowed to be vented from the city’s forcefield. The entire planet would suffocate in minutes.

“I DON’T WANNA DIE!” A man nearby started screaming frantically, clawing at his face. “I DON’T WANT TO DIE. I NEVER DID ANYTHING. I NEVER HAD A WOMAN. I NEVER-” He spotted Bulma clinging to the column. The wild, panicked look in his eyes darkened as he focused on her. He was a drowning man, and she was his life-raft. He came towards her, and Bulma felt her stomach curl in fear.

“Stay back!” she told him, holding out her arm.

He ignored her, smacking her arm to the side and grabbing her shoulders. “You understand, right? We’re going to die, we’re all going to die!” he babbled, mindless with fear, his eyes frantic, trailing over her body. “I never got the chance to have a woman…”

“And now is hardly the time!” Bulma spat back at him, trying to shove him off. He stumbled back, shocked, and for a moment Bulma thought he had snapped out of it. Then he snarled and lunged at her, tearing at her gown. She screamed.

And just as suddenly as he came at her, he was wrenched off. His eyes bugged out and he made an awful gargling sound. There was a sickening crunch. Then he collapsed to the floor. Vegeta dropped his hold around the man’s throat, looming over his body, staring down unmercifully at the lifeless heap. His dark eyes lifted and met hers.

“Are you hurt?”

Bulma was shaking with adrenalin and fear. She stared at the man on the floor. He wasn’t moving. The flower in her hair had fallen out, and now lay by the body, a mockery of a funeral. She looked back at Vegeta with wide, terrified eyes. “D-did you… just…”

“Yes,” he told her coldly. “Or would you rather I had let him rape you?”

Bulma put a hand over her mouth, feeling sick to her stomach.

_WREEEE! WREEEE! WREEEE!_

Vegeta made an irritated sound and approached her. She backed up, but he was faster, grabbing her arm, giving her a gentle shake. “Can you fix this?” he asked, his voice cold and urgent.

She struggled to fight back tears, trying to regain the shreds of rational thinking. A man lay dead at her feet but they would _all_ be dead soon if someone didn’t fix the forcefield at the wall, and she realized that someone had to be her. Bulma nodded numbly, dropping the hand from her mouth. “I think so…”

It was answer enough for him. Vegeta grabbed her hand firmly and pulled her behind him, making a way for them through the throngs of frantic people. Bulma stumbled after him. She was still appalled at what she had witnessed, at what he had done… The hand that held hers had just _taken someone’s life_.

Because of her.

She was disgusted.

She was… _relieved_. _Thankful_ he had saved her when he did, even though it had cost a man his life.

Bulma felt shamed-filled tears run down her cheeks, and she tried to brush them away while keeping up with Vegeta’s merciless pace. His grip hurt, his ki guard biting into her hand. They were nearly at the back of the estate when Bulma felt something grab her arm, yanking her back, bringing them to a halt. Vegeta spun about to see what the hold-up was, raising his free hand to blast any threat-

And came face to face with Raditz.

 

* * *

~0x0x0~

...art by [Rutbisbe](http://rutbisbe.tumblr.com/post/151943342716/inktober-2016-day-17-ive-been-reading-the)

 

 

...art by [RedViolett](http://redviolett.tumblr.com/post/153812944802/may-i-next-fanart-for-ladyvegeets-and-her)

 

 

...soon to be art by ****Artephile**** aka ** **[Marcella-Duchamp](http://marcella-duchamp.tumblr.com)****

**AN:**

The other contestants who wrote for this challenge were, [BigBad-Wolfy](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12207360/1/Thieves-Pirates-and-Cotton-Candy-Dreams) , [Bitchii-Usa](https://m.fanfiction.net/s/12206155/1/Blue-Kissed-Sky) , [Verimol Lab](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1IKW09zVNniCAcdPLTolZGUnZ9lOsme_GLBJfhbXZZd8/edit) , [Mariana Oliveira](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12206382/1/Ms-Briefs) , [Fleur Licorne](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12207194/1/) , [Vera Lynn](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12207075/1/Revolution-A-Tale-of-Two-Cities-AU) and [FrogLady15](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12205999/1/). You should go check out their fantastic stories :) 

 

Find more from LadyVegeets, or follow her, on **twitter, tumblr, FFnet, AO3.**


	4. OSS&P Part 04 (w/ FANART)

**Of Stars, Steam, and Pride**

By **LadyVegeets,** (beta-read by **Artephile / Marcella-Duchamp** )

**~Part 4~**

 

“What the hell are you doing to her?” Raditz demanded, glowering hotly at Vegeta. “Why is she crying with you dragging her along?”

Vegeta lowered his raised hand, sneering at Raditz. “What difference does it make to you?”

Raditz dismissed Vegeta, looking directly at Bulma. His hand gently squeezing her arm. “Did he do something to you?” he asked.

Bulma’s throat closed up, feeling overwhelmed, frozen in the midst of the ongoing chaos. _Had_ Vegeta done anything to her? No, not exactly. Yet all she wanted to do was shy away from Vegeta, from the terrible thing he had done, what she had _made_ him do because she hadn’t been able to protect herself from the hysterical man.

The alarm peeled loudly overhead again. All three of them looked up, then back at each other, tense. Raditz pulled her closer. “I’ll take her from here,” he told Vegeta. “I can protect her.”

“Like _hell_ you can,” Vegeta snarled, tightening his hold on Bulma and tugging her back. “I wouldn’t trust you with the life of a fly, let alone hers.”

“I’m doing you a favor,” Raditz insisted. “We all know how much you hate everyone. I can take her off your hands. She clearly doesn’t want to be with you.”

“If she’s unhappy with me, she’s perfectly capable of speaking of it herself,” Vegeta snapped back. 

His words were a slap in the face. Right, she _did_ have a voice. “Would both of you unhand me?” Bulma asked. They looked at her, surprised, before guiltily letting her go. 

“Bulma, come with me,” Raditz implored. “I have a space shuttle nearby, I can fit you and a few friends in there safely, but we have to go _now_.”

“Don’t trust him,” Vegeta growled, his hands fisting at his sides. He looked at her, his eyes fierce, swimming with intensity. “I can get you to the wall. You have a responsibility, a duty to uphold.”

“Duty? To hell with that!” Raditz shouted back. “People are going to die! SHE is going to die, but I guess you don’t care about that, all you care about is how you can use her as your tool. _I_ can keep her _alive_.”

“For as long as it’s _convenient_ for you,” Vegeta snarled back.

“Would both of you SHUT UP!” Bulma demanded. She grabbed Raditz’s hand, squeezing it, and looked into his large, soft eyes. “Thank you for coming for me. But Vegeta is right. If there’s a chance I can save people, I have to try. I couldn’t live with myself otherwise. Will you take Goku and Chi Chi to your shuttle?”

“If I can find them before it’s too late,” Raditz said, sounding doubtful.

Bulma nodded. “Do your best. I have faith in you.” She gave him a warm smile and then let his hand go. He gave her a pained look.

She turned to Vegeta. He was watching her with calculating eyes. Where Raditz was emotional, Vegeta wasn’t, single-mindedly focused on carrying out his mission, whatever that might be. Which is exactly what Bulma needed right now. She steeled her resolve, making her choice. “Get me to the wall and I will modify all the ki guards you could want,” she promised Vegeta.

She took his hand and his brow rose, but just as quickly he squeezed her hand back, his hold tightening so they wouldn’t get separated. Vegeta turned about and led them forward through the throng of people making their escape. When Bulma glanced over her shoulder, Raditz was already gone.

They burst outside through the backdoor, and Vegeta led her through the garden to what appeared to be a secret exit. They came out onto a side street. He hurried them down the alleyways, sticking to the shadows, avoiding the major streets. People were panicked, boarding themselves up or trying to flee, frantic for an escape to a shuttle site. They were fighting, crying, hugging, looting, the threat of imminent death affecting even the most respectable citizens. It was chaos. Vegeta didn’t falter, leading her down the quietest routes, glaring menacingly at anyone who looked at them for too long.

 _WREEEE! WREEEE! WREEEE!_  

They finally reached one of the wall’s entrances. Bulma punched in her code to the door. She heard the cogs and wheels churn, but the door didn’t open, refusing to accept her pin.

“What…?!” she protested. She tried again, but the door panel wouldn’t open. Someone had changed the locks?

“What’s the hold up?!” Vegeta snapped at her.

“I’m locked out!”

“Stand aside!” he barked at her, shoving her away. He tore off his glove and held out his hand, blasting a tiny ball of ki at the door handle. The ki sliced right through the handle like butter, and the door swung open.

Bulma was about to enter first, but Vegeta held her back. “I’ll take point.”

“ _I_ know the way!”

“They locked you out. The enemy could be down there; they may have laid traps.”

“Oh…”

Vegeta went first and Bulma followed. They ran down the stairs, down through the underground corridors, Bulma directing Vegeta towards a nearby control panel. If there were any enemies below, she and Vegeta didn’t encounter them.

_WREEEE!!! WREEEE!!! WREEEE!!!_

They finally reached the control panel. Bulma hurried to read the dials, trying to pinpoint the location of the problem. Seeing the results, she felt all the blood drain from her face. Bulma picked up the communicator and yelled into it, hoping some of the other engineers were at their stations. No one responded.

“Can you fix it?” Vegeta shouted at her over the alarm.

“There’s… nothing _to_ fix.”

“What?”

She tried punching in some of her codes, but the console wouldn’t respond. She wiped the sweat beading on her brow, watching the dials sink lower and lower on the display.

“Bulma, what’s wrong?” Vegeta insisted, the use of her first name grabbing her attention.

“They’ve _changed_ all the codes. Not just for the doors, but the whole system! I… I can’t get access. I can’t stop it, I can’t fix it.” Not in time, not without being at the central station that was half way around the other side of the city.

 _WREEEE. WREEEE. WREEEE._ The alarm sounded sickly, not as piercing as it once had been, literally losing steam.

“You’ve got to do something!” Vegeta growled at her warningly, his voice holding an almost desperate tone.

“I can’t.”

“Then _I_ can. Tell me what to blow up!”

Bulma looked at the dials. They were almost at zero. Even now, the forcefield was probably flickering overhead the city skyline. It was game over.  

_WREEEE… WREEEE…_

Vegeta’s offer was futile. A ki attack wouldn’t bring the systems back online. She felt a tear drip down her cheek, the oppressive weight of failure chilling her from the inside out. Vegeta was still waiting for her to reply, desperate to do something, destroy anything, to help.

“Me,” she whispered hollowly.

Vegeta looked at her, not comprehending her answer at first. Bulma gave him a sad, bitter smile. The desperate urgency in his eyes flickered out, dying, as he came to understand what she already knew.

It was over. She had failed.

They were all going to die.

_WREEee… WREEee…_

They had minutes at most. Slowly, Bulma approached him. Taking his hand, Bulma placed it over her chest. The metal of his gauntlet bit into her breast. Her heart was racing. His fingers curled over her heart. Their eyes met. She nodded at him. “It’ll be quicker this way,” she whispered to him, cajoling.

Vegeta’s face twisted in anguish, his teeth clenching. His other hand grabbed her about the waist, pulling her in against him. Strangely, she didn’t mind. In fact, it was kind of nice…

_Wreee…_

Bulma closed her eyes, comforted to be held by him in their last moments. She let out a sigh, waiting for him to kill her mercifully.

There was a deep, barely audible moan as the wall lost all power, and then the world went very still. The lights flickered out. They were thrown into utter darkness and silence. It felt as if the whole world ended. Above, the atmosphere was no doubt escaping into space. Soon people would suffocate, themselves included.

“Do it, Vegeta,” Bulma whispered softly against his cheek. She breathed in the musky scent of him, relishing her last breaths of air.

His hand tightened on her waist, and he made a choking sound. “You… can’t ask that of me…”

“You killed that man just before.”

“Bulma, please, I… I can’t go through this again…” 

Was his hand trembling over her chest, or was her heart just beating that fast? “Go through what?” she asked, growing annoyed by his hesitation. She opened her eyes to see him, despite the lack of light. “Why are you being so _selfish_? End it, Vegeta, I don’t want to suffocate to death, it won’t be pleasant. Just-” 

One lone, tiny light glowed on the console. Bulma sucked in a breath of surprise. She grabbed Vegeta’s hand, pushing it off her chest and she pulled out of his embrace. She fell to her knees by the console.

“LIGHT. MAKE A LIGHT.”

Vegeta came over, producing a ki ball in his palm for her to see by. Bulma pressed some buttons…

…The dials started responding.

She choked back a laugh.

“What is it?” he asked.

“The generators shut down. It wiped all the codes!” she said, half laughing, her hands shaking. She felt light headed, hysterical. No longer locked out, Bulma worked manically on getting power redirected back to their proper places. Hopefully it would be in time. It _had_ to be. They were still breathing, weren’t they? The whole planet couldn’t have vented its air in only a couple of seconds, could it? 

There was hissing and whining as the boilers burned and steam sung through the pipes once more. A few seconds later the lights flickered back on. Power was restored to the wall.

“Oh my god… We’re alive!” Bulma exclaimed. She could hardly believe it. She looked over at Vegeta but her excitement instantly died when she saw him, or rather his back. He was already half way down the corridor, walking back to the stairs that would lead them up. Her excitement vanished.

How dare he.

How _dare he_ not kill her. He would murder some poor man who had lost his mind in panic, but wouldn’t grant _her_ a merciful death?

What kind of monster was he?

“Hey, where are you going?” she shouted after him.

“To get my men and secure this shit hole of an outpost!” he shouted back at her, his voice hoarser than usual. 

Bulma let him go, huffing. She grabbed the communicator and set it to all channels, announcing to the city that everything was under control and asking for all military personal available to report to Colonel Vegeta at the Bingley Estate. She smiled coldly, hoping her issuing orders on his behalf would piss him off. 

Then she headed back up to the surface to face the fallout.

It took several hours for the city to recover from the shock of near extinction. Bulma checked on her estate and family first, glad to see everyone and thing was alright. She didn’t linger, heading back to the Bingley estate as soon as possible. There was a small crowd of soldiers in military blues gathered, including Goku. Vegeta was barking stern orders at them, sending them out to scour the city, wanting to return order, and for the men to inspect the underground, ensuring no one was trying to interfere with the wall again. Bulma saw no sign of Raditz. No doubt he was conducting investigations of his own or reporting the whole event to the General. 

The body of the man Vegeta had killed was carted off, to be properly buried at a later time. Bulma was surprised when, after making an inquiry, a soldier in blue told her Vegeta had admitted to the murder. The colonel claimed to have killed the man for trying to rape a guest during the chaos… When put like that, it sounded almost… noble. As if Vegeta’s actions had been justified. Had she been wrong to so harshly judge Vegeta for killing the man? Bulma just didn’t know.

“Bulma!” Chi Chi wailed, throwing herself at her friend. The two women hugged, consoling each other over their near death and laughing deliriously over their survival. “You saved us! You’re a hero, a hero!” Chi Chi insisted.

Bulma tried to smile, but inwardly she felt a growing, swelling guilt. She very nearly hadn’t saved them. In fact, she had given up on them, on life entirely. She had _begged_ for death. From _Vegeta_ of all people.

And Bulma had been far too terrifyingly okay with the notion of death. That’s what haunted her the most. In her last moments she hadn’t wept for her family, or for her friends, or for her home. She had wept for herself, knowing that her death meant so very little in the grand scheme of things, and she couldn’t bare that. Couldn’t bare the crushing weight of the mediocrity of her life. She had wanted Vegeta to end it before she had to suffer a long, drawn out death, choking on the thinning air and made to reflect on every miserable, mundane thing she had done with her existence, every missed opportunity, her dying thoughts filled with nothing but regrets.

“Bulma… What’s… Oh honey…” Chi Chi crooned.

Bulma touched her cheek and felt tears streaming down her face without her knowing it. She couldn’t stop them. She started sobbing. Chi Chi grabbed her up and took her to a side room so they could have some privacy.

“You must have been so scared,” Chi Chi tried to sympathize, petting her in a motherly fashion. “I know I was, and I didn’t have the entire fate of the planet resting on my shoulders. I’m so glad I had Goku with me, he was such a comfort.”

Bulma squeezed Chi Chi, wanting to be happy for her friend, and she was, but she also felt jealous. Jealous that Chi Chi had found love when she hadn’t, jealous that Chi Chi had spent her almost-last-moments with someone who comforted her, when Bulma had been stuck with a murderer who was terrible even at that, because he wouldn’t even kill her out of kindness. And despite how much she loathed Vegeta, hated that he wouldn’t even grant her the one, small mercy of a quick death, she had still been achingly, miserably happy he had been there with her, holding her, and that she wasn’t going to have to die alone…

… How pathetic was that?

“You’re so lucky to have Goku,” Bulma whispered, wiping away her tears, trying to find the good in the situation, at least for her friend’s sake.

Chi Chi smiled at her, but there was the hint of pity in her eyes; she could tell Bulma was struggling with something bigger. “Yes, well, good for _him_ you mean. Goku needs a woman to take care of him, and spend all this money he has, haha,” she said, trying to lighten the mood by joking. 

“Bulma.” A harsh voice cut in. Both women startled and looked up, seeing Vegeta standing in the doorway, his face set sternly. He gave Chi Chi a cold glance, then looked over at Bulma. “I need a list of all authorized personnel who have access to the wall’s tunnels.”

“Right,” Bulma said, looking away, ashamed to meet his gaze while she wept, after everything that had happened. “I’ll be there in a moment.”

Vegeta left.

“Oh my god…” Chi Chi said, her voice tight. “Do you think he heard me… He knows I was joking, right?”

“I wouldn’t hold your breath,” Bulma mumbled. “The man has no sense of humor. And absolutely no mercy.”

 

* * *

~xox~

 

After the fiasco of the second ball, Chi Chi left the Bingley estate to return to her own. She wanted to visit her father and give Goku time to carry out his military duties without distraction. Bulma was also busy, helping to reinstate better security and fix all the damage done to the wall. She didn’t let on to anyone else, but she was worried. She prided herself on her advanced skills. On this planet there were few to none who could beat her in that regard. So how had someone bested her, twice no less, to bring down the wall’s defenses? Who had the security clearance to lock her out of her own system? It was deeply troubling.

Bulma was puzzling this out, returning home from a long day of working in the oppressive heat of the city’s underground, when Chi Chi came careening into her parlor. Her cheeks were streaked black from running mascara, weeping loudly.

“B-u-lma!” Chi Chi sobbed brokenly. She collapsed to the floor, bowing over, crying her tiny heart out. Bulma hurried to her, grabbing her trembling shoulders.

“Oh my god, Chi Chi, what happened?”

“He’s g-o-ne!” Chi Chi wailed. “H-he didn’t e-even say good-b-ye…!”

“What? Who?”

“G-o-ku!”

“ _What?_ ”

Chi Chi sobbed miserably, barely able to speak, rocking back and forth, devastated. She held out a note and Bulma took it, reading it over, her eyes widening as she did so. It wasn’t even written from Goku, but from an attendant, the language incredibly formal and dismissive, telling Chi Chi that Goku had to leave the Bingley estate due to work and that it was uncertain when he would return, if at all. 

Bulma read the lines out loud, appalled. “It is also Son’s heartfelt wish to improve his training, and as such, has little time or inclination to be dallying with frivolous courtships…” 

Chi Chi wailed pathetically.

“Oh Chi Chi…” Bulma stammered. “It’s… I mean… He clearly didn’t write this. Anyone could see how much he adored you.”

Chi Chi shook her head, covering her face with a handkerchief, beside herself with grief. “Wh-what did I do? W-was it something I did? S-said? W-wore?”

“No honey, it couldn’t be,” Bulma replied, hugging her friend and letting Chi Chi cry on her shoulder. “There must be some misunderstanding. We’ll get it sorted.”

“I c-can’t do this, Bulma,” Chi Chi weeped, clinging to Bulma. “How can I go on when h-he doesn’t love me…!”

Bulma held Chi Chi for a long time until her friend had exhausted herself. Bulma prayed that whatever had happened to send Goku away, it wouldn’t be for long.

 

* * *

~xox~

 

Raditz visited early the next day. “Can I steal you away for a few hours?” he asked Bulma in way of greeting, giving her a winning smile.

Bulma returned it with a tired one. Consoling Chi Chi had been exhausting. On top of her own worries and work regarding the wall, she had had little time to sleep. “Where to?” she asked.

“Space,” Raditz grinned, his eyes dancing mischievously. “The General would like to meet you.”

Bulma felt her mouth part in shock. “…What?”

Raditz winked at her. “General Frieza is worried about the recent events from this outpost, _but_ he’s very impressed with _your_ work and the parts you’ve played.” He looked her over, smiling. “Do you have something elegant to put on? He’s a stickler for appearances.”

An hour later, after she had changed and they had traveled to the launch site, Bulma found herself getting into her first shuttle. Her heart was beating wildly. She had always dreamed of going into space, going off world, but such transportation was usually reserved for officers and people of great importance. While Bulma’s family was well off and integral to this little planet’s society, she was practically an unknown in the galactic social circles and had never had the opportunity.

Until now. General Frieza of De Burgh wanted to speak to _her_.

Personally.

…Holy shit.

Bulma couldn’t stop looking, her head twisting this way and that, torn about what she should give her attention to. She wanted to examine the shuttle. She wanted to look out the window as they left the atmosphere, passing through the forcefield once they had received clearance to do so. She wanted to stare at the handsome man who watched her, grinning at her enthusiasm, happy to be the one to show her a whole new world. Bulma didn’t know what to do with herself. And on top of all the excitement, she was nervous about her upcoming audience. Bulma was a confident woman, but speaking to the General of the Galactic Armies was no small thing.

And neither was his armada. Frieza’s space ship was huge, a giant floating blimp in the deep of space. Other ships of all shapes and sizes floated nearby, like pilot fish clinging to a shark. Bulma wanted to weep for the technology she could learn and explore there. She had heard stories about other outposts, of greater size and importance to her own, using technologies and energies more efficient than steam. Bulma was chomping at the bit to learn all about them.

When they arrived on the large blimp, Raditz led her through a myriad of passageways, taking her deeper and deeper inside the massive spacecraft. Finally, they stood outside giant doors. An attendant opened them, announcing both her and Raditz to the room.

At the very end, sitting in a tall, white chair, was the General. Frieza was much smaller than she had anticipated. His skin was very pale, almost translucent. His jacket was also not a military blue, but a deep, royal purple and gold. His eyes were small and narrow, and they watched her in a way that made Bulma’s skin crawl as she and Raditz approached his seat. He was more imposing than she had feared.

“General, Sir, this is the young lady I spoke to you about,” Raditz introduced deferentially. “Miss Bulma Briefs.”

“The one who has managed to stay one step ahead of some nefarious enemy interference?” Frieza asked, his voice languid, sinuous. “Most clever.” His eyes took her in from head to toe, and his lips curled. “I like clever. Clever is useful.”

Bulma enjoyed being flattered, being appreciated, especially for her intelligence. She did not enjoy this. Not one bit. Frieza made her feel like she was a piece of meat being sized up.

She was spared his gaze when a knock came at the door. An attendant announced another visitor. “Colonel Vegeta.”

Bulma’s eyes widened and she turned around as Vegeta stormed in. He marched in resolutely, but his step faltered when he spotted her, not having expected her there. 

Frieza’s sharp eyes didn’t miss their surprise. “You two know each other?” he asked keenly, and before either could reply, he grinned. “Of course you do. You’re stationed on her planet, are you not, Vegeta?”

“Correct,” Vegeta replied as he approached. He chose to stand next to Bulma rather than Raditz, throwing the man an unpleasant glare. 

“Raditz was just introducing this enterprising young woman to me,” Frieza purred, looking amused about something. “Apparently she’s been quite integral in the outpost’s defenses. Maybe you could learn something from her, Vegeta, seeing as you’ve allowed the outpost to come under attack, _twice_ , since your short appointment there.”

Vegeta’s jaw tensed, his brow pulling down. “Yes, sir. She’s a credit to her outpost.”

“Oh my. Flattery, from Vegeta…?” Frieza’s eyes swiveled away from Vegeta, back onto Bulma. “ _Most_ amusing. Tell me, Miss Briefs. How _have_ you managed to impress my men so much?”

Bulma cleared her throat, and as succinctly as possible, told Frieza about her role in the recent attacks, and her faculty with machinery. Frieza nodded, listening to her patiently and with great attention. 

“So you’re a creator too?” he asked, when she mentioned as much.

Bulma felt her heart swell at the opportunity to brag to the General. “Yes, Sir. It’s a dream of mine to shift away from maintenance and work on inventions more. I’ve actually been working on an idea for ki armor that-”

“Indeed?” Frieza asked, leaning forward, his interest clearly piqued.

“All theoretical,” Vegeta quickly interrupted, giving Bulma a sharp look.

Bulma looked back at him, puzzled. “What? No. I have a prototype. I _showed_ it to you.”

“And it _didn’t work_ ,” Vegeta grit out between clenched teeth.

“But-”

“Pity,” Frieza sighed. “Do you still have it?”

“I…” she stammered, seeing her opportunity to impress slipping between her fingers. “No… I auctioned it off to charity…”

“How unfortunate,” Frieza said, sitting back, losing interest. “Well, Miss Briefs, would you excuse us? I wish to speak to my men. It’s been a pleasure.”

Bulma forced a smile and stiffly curtsied, leaving the audience chamber. She was fuming, feeling she had just lost out on a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to advance her career. To get off her planet and make something of herself. But then Vegeta had _lied_ and ruined it all for her. And what could she do? Throw a fit, call Vegeta a liar? She doubted the General would tolerate such a scene, or believe some nobody outpost engineer over one of his own officers. How she _loathed_ that man!

As soon as the doors shut behind her Bulma stomped off to the nearest observation deck. If she was going to be kept waiting, stewing, she would at least do so while watching the galaxy. 

A large windowed wall allowed her to see the outside world. The view of space was breath-taking, the ship shrouded in inky blackness. Stars and planets glittered in the sky, hundreds of light years away, and there she stood, tiny and insignificant and trapped. Bulma’s hands curled against the thick glass, which was as cold an unyielding as Vegeta himself. 

“What the HELL are you doing here?” Vegeta’s sudden voice made her jump.

She looked over her shoulder at him, scowling. “I was _invited_ here.”

“Do you have _any_ idea how dangerous it is…” Vegeta trailed off, running a hand over his face in agitation. He then pulled it away, giving her an irritated, haggard look. “I can’t believe you told him about the vest!”

“Why _wouldn’t_ I?” she spat back, turning around to face him. “And why did you lie about it! That was my big chance to -mph!” she squealed as he put his hand over her mouth, muffling her words and shoving her back up against the glass. Her eyes widened in surprise, looking at Vegeta in alarm.

“Shut up, you stupid girl. Even now they could be listening.” 

Who? What? 

The glass behind her was cold, freezing, but he was fire. Even through his uniform Bulma could feel the heat radiating from Vegeta’s body as he pressed against her. He was all muscle, hard and unforgiving, and it stirred up all sorts of confusing feelings inside of her. Rage, mostly rage, she told herself weakly even as she found her body melting against him.

He slowly removed his hand from her mouth. She gasped for air, surprised at how shallow she was breathing, like she had been running. His thumb traced her bottom lip. “Why do you always seek to vex me?” he asked her, his voice surprisingly soft. She met his eyes. His dark, obsidian gaze reflected the galaxy back to her, and in their depths she saw something aching, conflicted… yearning.

“Do I?” she asked uncertainly, barely able to form words.

He frowned, but it was more puzzled than angry. His eyes fell to her mouth, lingering on her lips, and she felt her breath catch, her fingers curling against his jacket. 

And then he stepped back, releasing her. Bulma lay against the glass window, gasping for air, her body trembling. He turned his back to her so she couldn’t see his face.

“Say nothing more than what they ask you if you value your life,” he told her, and then left.

Bulma watched him go, utterly bewildered at him, and at herself.

It was another ten minutes before Raditz was finished with Frieza and found her. He guided her back to their shuttle.

“The General was very impressed,” Raditz told her.

“Was he?” Bulma asked dully. She hadn’t got that impression, and her interaction with Vegeta had left her utterly confused, Frieza now far from her thoughts.

“Very,” Raditz confirmed. He leaned in conspiringly. “I shouldn’t be telling you this, but Frieza asked me to keep an eye on you, and if you continue to impress, he might consider recruiting you for our science division.”

That gave her pause. Although the prospect elated her, her heart just wasn’t quite in it. Not after Vegeta’s warning.

Raditz noticed. “What’s wrong, I… I thought you’d be more excited.”

“I am, no!” Bulma hurried to assure him. “It’s just… I’m worried about my friend,” she lied.

“The injured one?”

“Well, yes, but she’s not injured now… at least, not physically. Emotionally. She’s been jilted… She thought it was true love.”

“Ouch,” Raditz sympathized. “Who’s the rogue?”

“Goku Son.”

“Goku?!” Raditz paused, and Bulma saw something flash in his gaze. He knew something.

“What! What is it?” she insisted.

Raditz made a face, looking away awkwardly. “You’re… not going to like this.”

“No shit! Tell me!” Bulma demanded, her mind already going to the worst case scenarios. Was Goku known for breaking hearts? Did he have a dark side she was unaware of? It hardly seemed possible, but she hadn’t known him very long, had she? “Does he have a reputation? He seemed so nice.”

“No, not Goku, he’s a peach,” Raditz said, waving away her concerns about Goku dismissively. “No, I’m referring to our mutual _friend_.”

It took Bulma a moment to catch on. “…Vegeta?”

Raditz nodded. “Just now when we were talking to Frieza. Vegeta informed the General that he and Goku had moved to the Darcy estates, because Goku was about to piss away his fortune on some leeching social climber.” Raditz helped up his hands. “ _His_ words, not mine.”

 Bulma felt like she was falling. She was falling down a very dark tunnel of emotional turmoil, and when she hit the bottom she exploded into a well of rage.

She was consumed by it the entire shuttle ride home. Every feeling she had ever had for Vegeta that wasn’t loathing - any moments of empathy, or admiration, or interest, or even attraction, Bulma took all those little kindnesses and crushed them until there was nothing left but powdery revulsion. Vegeta had broken Chi Chi’s heart, and in doing so, had hardened her own against him.

Vegeta was dead to her. 

 

* * *

~xox~

 

A few days later Bulma received a call to a mechanical emergency at the clock tower. She took her carriage. Bulma was happy for the excuse to be out of her house. Dealing with Chi Chi moping around, day in and out, was getting exhausting, and at work at the wall, Raditz stuck to her side. As charming as he was, between entertaining him and trying to cheer up Chi Chi, Bulma had little time to herself to think or work on her own projects, much less deal with the swelling emotional time bomb she could feel ticking inside of her. A lot had happened lately and she had barely the chance to deal with any of it.

Bulma reached the clock tower and saw it had been roped off. Seeing as she was there to fix it, she let herself in and headed up to the top where all the machinery was. She looked around and called out, but couldn’t see any staff.

Huh. Odd.

Perhaps they trusted her to just get the job done on her own. Bulma moved around the giant cogs and tried to locate the problem.

“Bulma.”

“Aah!” She screamed, jumping back, clutching her chest and shooting the dark silhouette an angry glare. “ _Vegeta_?! Holy shit, you scared me.”

He stepped out from the shadows. He wasn’t in his military blues, dressed in a dark, dapper suit. His expression was serious as always, but he looked almost… anxious. “I had to call you here because I couldn’t be certain if they were listening in at our estates. Even the walls have ears.”

Bulma let her hand drop from her chest, giving Vegeta an incredulous look. “What the _hell_ are you going on about? You sound like a crazy person.”

“You wouldn’t be wrong,” he replied, his tone unusually self-deprecating. 

Bulma looked around. The whirr of the clock tower’s mechanics sounded smooth to her ears, filling the silence with a comforting, rhythmic noise. “So there’s nothing wrong with the tower?”

“No. It was a ruse to speak to you alone.”

Great. She had half a mind to just leave, but Bulma doubted Vegeta would be so obliging. Better to get this over with. “Well then, speak,” she said, crossing her arms.

Vegeta hesitated. He looked at her, then away, scowling.

The clacking and whirring of machinery droned on.

Bulma sighed. “Well?”

“You never answered me before,” he said, looking out at the view of the city from the tower. “If you found it satisfying being here.”

Bulma frowned, glaring at him. That stupid question again, that damned, stupid question that had been haunting her most of her life. No, she wasn’t satisfied. Recent events had made that abundantly clear. But she didn’t owe this man anything, certainly not an answer to so private a question. “What’s it to you?”

“What if I can give you a way off this planet?”

Bulma looked at him coldly, not daring to hope, waiting for him to explain.

“I have an old shuttle,” he said. “The military thinks it was destroyed, so they won’t come looking for it. I need someone who can fix it up, and keep it working even in the dead of space. Someone smart, and strong-willed. Someone who also seeks something more than this vile place can offer.”

Bulma felt the color drain from her face. What he was suggesting was… “That’s _treason_.” To not only steal from the militia, but to abandon his post. To flee her outpost without permission? They could be executed!

“Yes,” he admitted simply, looking at her, directly into her eyes, pinning her in place with his frankness. “I know you’re inferior to me in many ways. People consider you little more than a wealthy, hobby-mechanic, one who is too opinionated to ever find a husband. That’s irrelevant. I’m proposing to free you, free us, from this shit hole of a life.”

Bulma scowled, her annoyance at his insults building inside her, rising to the surface.

“I know it’s a lot to ask,” he continued. “And I promise we would leave in a way to spare any repercussions against your family and-”

“No.”

“…What?”

“I said no,” she repeated, looking back at him, her eyes sparking with anger. “There is _nothing_ you could remotely say that would convince me to run away with an unfeeling, murdering, prideful sonovabitch like you. You are the _last_ person I would want to be stuck in space with, freedom or not.”

“…What?” he repeated, still dumbfounded.

“Are you really so surprised?” She asked, mockingly. “After acting like such an uncivil ass at every opportunity? After ruining my best friend’s life!”

“Ruining… That girl?”

“Who else?!” She shouted, indignant. “I mean, did you or did you fucking _not_ separate Chi Chi and Goku because you thought she was after his money?”

Vegeta scowled, his temper starting to rise. “And if I did? Kakarot is a soft-hearted fool. I was protecting him from your shameless friend.”

“ _Shameless_! She is IN LOVE with him!”

“You mean his _money_. I heard what she said to you.”

“No!” Bulma shouted back, tearing at her hair. “She was jesting to make me feel better after-” _Nearly getting raped. Nearly dying. Nearly giving myself to you…_ Bulma’s face twisted in anguish. “After that horrible night! If she wanted money she could have had it from _me_ , you moron! But she’s never asked, not once, you insufferable snob!”

Vegeta looked away, his lips thinning, actually appearing contrite. “I…”

“And that’s another thing!” Bulma added, on a roll now. “Your inability to see the good in people. You think yourself so much better, superior to everyone else. How could I possibly fly off into the unknown when I fear you’ll leave by the wayside for the first mistake I make? Just look at Raditz.”

Vegeta’s lip curled up instantly at the man’s name, and he gave her a threatening look. “What about _Raditz_?”

Bulma raised her chin. “You’ve never given him another chance.”

“You’re still woefully ignorant if you think he deserves another chance after what he did,” Vegeta sneered contemptuously. 

Bulma rolled her eyes. “Well you know what, Vegeta? You _were_ his superior at the time. Which means any mistake he made is _your_ mistake too. Isn’t that how it works?”

Vegeta went very still, his eyes boring into her, something grief-stricken flashing in his dark gaze.

Bulma started to feel her superiority crumble.

“…So your answer is ‘no’, then,” he finally said, his voice whisper cold.

She swallowed, and nodded. “It is.”

Vegeta’s jaw worked, his hands fisting. “…I could make you.”

“Go ahead and try.”

They stood there, the seconds ticking by in the old clock tower, neither making a move.

Bulma finally picked up her bag, and gave him her back, calling his bluff. “Goodbye, Vegeta.”

“Bulma…” he pleaded, his voice raw. She looked over her shoulder at him, but he was looking down at the floor. “My life is in your hands,” he said. They both knew if she spoke of this to anyone, Vegeta would be executed. “Just like your life was in mine that night…”

Bulma looked away from him, overwhelmed at the reminder of when she had begged him to kill her; it was too intimate a memory to face right now. “I’ve seen what you’ve done when you’ve held life in your hands,” she replied coldly. “Everything you touch, you destroy.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, as soon as she saw the way he flinched at them, Bulma wished she could take them back.

“…I see,” he said, his voice small. “I thank you then for your consideration.” He brushed past her, leaving her standing at the top of the clock tower alone, awash with regret and emotions she couldn’t comprehend. She should have been happy he left, but when he did something broke inside of her, and she was overcome with despair. Bulma crumpled to the floor and cried, high above the city she both loved and loathed, a city she had spent her whole life protecting while at the same time wishing she could escape. She had just killed her one chance to finally leave it.

 

* * *

~0x0x0~

...art by **[VegetaPsycho!!!](http://vegetapsycho.tumblr.com/post/153391515965/jesus-ladyvegeets-whole-space-steampunk-pride) <3  ** Find her on tumblr, twitter

 

 

  **AN:** Phew. This one needed more editing than the others.

Find more from **LadyVegeets** , or follow her, on **twitter, tumblr, FFnet, AO3 .**

Amazing **fanart** for this story so far by **GalacticShark17, Artephile / Marcella-Duchamp, Rutbisbe, Stupidoomdoodles, VegetaPsycho** and **RedViolett.** Check ‘em out!!! :D

 


	5. OSS&P Part 05 (w/ FANART)

**Of Stars, Steam, and Pride**

By **LadyVegeets,** (beta-read by **Artephile / Marcella-Duchamp** )

**~Part 5~**

 

A couple days passed. Bulma was coming back from working on the wall when she found a carriage parked in front of her estate. Puzzled, she headed inside and heard Chi Chi’s excited voice from down the hall. Bulma followed it, her pace picking up as her heart started thumping, daring to hope…

She burst into the living room to find Goku and Chi Chi sitting on a sofa together, cuddled as close as they could get, holding hands. Goku was smiling and listening raptly to everything Chi Chi had to say, and Chi Chi apparently had a lot to talk about, babbling on about lord knew what, but it didn’t appear as though Goku cared, just happy to be able to listen. 

“Goku?” Bulma asked, surprised yet elated at the happy scene the two painted.

Goku gave her a sheepish grin. “Hi Bulma. I hope you don’t mind my visiting…”

“No, not at all!”

“I was just telling Chi Chi what an idiot I’ve been and that I hoped she would forgive my abrupt leaving. I… I was convinced I needed time to reflect alone, but reflecting made me realize that I couldn't be swayed.”

“About what?” Bulma asked, grinning widely, predicting his answer.

Chi Chi blushed prettily. “H-he asked me to marry him! And I said yes!”

Bulma squealed and Chi Chi stood up and the two women hugged each other, crying happy tears. Goku also stood and wrapped them both in his long, muscular arms, giving them a tight group hug. Chi Chi laughed, which made Goku laugh, and Bulma had to join in, overjoyed for her friends’ happiness.

They had dinner together to celebrate. Goku promised to move back to the Bingley estate and extended an invitation to both women to come and stay there for as long and as often as they wished.

When Chi Chi went to fetch dessert, Goku pulled Bulma aside, taking her hand.

“Thank you,” he told her earnestly.

“What for?” Bulma asked, her eyes wide.

“For convincing Vegeta that Chi Chi was no threat. I knew she was never after my money, but he’s my superior and friend. I couldn’t say no when he ordered me to move out and-”

“Vegeta changed his mind?” Bulma asked, surprised.

Goku nodded. “Yeah, he came back the other day and said he had misjudged Chi Chi and that I was free to ‘throw my life away’ on her if I wanted to, haha,” Goku laughed, rubbing the back of his head. He looked at Bulma with a gentle smile. “I knew it had to be you, I mean, who else would he listen to?”

“Me?” Bulma asked incredulous. “I’m the _last_ person he would…” her voice trailed off as she saw the stern look Goku was giving her.

“For someone so smart, you can be pretty dense,” he chastised her. 

Bulma huffed, looking away.

“I hope in time you’ll see,” Goku added, and gave her hand a last squeeze, before going to see what delectable dessert Chi Chi had made for him.

* * *

~xox~

 

The next day when Bulma arrived home from work, she found something on her bed. It was a little portable sound device. There was no note, no explanation, it was just there, on her bed.

Cautiously, Bulma sat down and pressed the play button. A recording started to play.

 _“What’s going on? Why have we accelerated?”_ A deep, older male voice came from the speaker, the voice crackling as if spoken over a communicator.

“Saibamen on our tail, Sir!” A younger voice answered, and Bulma stiffened with recognition. It was Raditz.

_“Well, shake them!”_

“Trying, Sir!”

There was silence for a while, broken only by the sounds of Raditz breathing tensely and pressing control buttons, trying to escape the saibamen in pursuit of his ship. 

Suddenly there was a loud explosion. She heard Raditz swear, or assumed it was swearing. The language he spoke was foreign to her, sounding suspiciously like the words Vegeta had used the first time she had met him while he was fending off the city.

_“What’s the damage?”_

“….Not good… Fuck, they got the left engine,” Raditz reported.

_“Return fire, damnit!”_

“Can’t, Sir!”

_“Why the hell not?”_

“Because… I gambled away our ammunition money…”

There was a very telling silence. Bulma had to give the older man credit. If it had been her, she would have been chewing Raditz out by now for such a terrible blunder. Is this the mistake Vegeta wouldn’t forgive Raditz for? 

“ _So we out run them,_ ” the voice finally decided. Practical. No time to place blame when there was still a crisis to avoid.

“C-can’t, Sir,” Raditz replied, his tone taking on a different quality; it was higher pitched, frantic. Frightened. “We’re too slow!”

Another explosion boomed in the background, and an alarm started sounding. Raditz swore, over and over, a string of nonsensical mixed languages and hysterics. “Fuck, fuck, _lairn, lairn, velg_. We’re too slow, too slow…”

The older man was shouting orders but the communicator crackled in and out. Over Raditz’s mutterings and the alarm blaring, the older man was near incomprehensible. 

Bulma could hear Raditz madly mashing buttons and controls. He shut off the communicator and finally the alarm. For a moment there was nothing but an eerie silence, with only Raditz whispering to himself.

“Too slow, we’re too slow, _lairn_ , we’ll never make it, we’ll never outrun their ships because… we’re too… _heavy_.”

Bulma gasped, dropping the sound device on the bed as if it had burnt her, putting a hand over her mouth. Her eyes went wide as realization dawned on her, as it clearly had on Raditz.

No, no… he couldn’t possibly mean…

Another eerie stretch of silence came, and for a moment Bulma wondered if she had stopped the recording when she dropped the device, but she heard the communicator crackle back to life.

“Sir.”

“ _Raditz. What the fuck hap-”_

“Sir,” Raditz cut in, his voice strangely cold, detached. “We’re too heavy. I need to drop the cargo.”

_“Raditz, you idiot, we hardly have any goddamn car-…”_

“…”

_“…You can’t be serious, boy.”_

“…”

 _“You’re a_ soldier _. You’re sworn to protect us. It’s not hopeless yet, we can still survive this!”_

“…”

_“Raditz… I’ve known you your whole life!”_

“…”

_“My wife, my SON are here! …Please!”_

“… If you snap their necks, it’ll be a better death for them, Sir.”

“ _Raditz, you piece of shit! Don’t do this! At least take Tarble before you-”_

“Disengaging cockpit,” Raditz said in a monotone voice. A button was pressed and there was a deep, metallic groaning as hooks were released. Bulma could hear the older man on the communicator screaming, cursing, pleading with Raditz to no avail. When the mechanical sound of the cockpit disengaging ended, she heard something different.

A woman sobbing. A young child crying. Oh god… Raditz had really done it. He had left the family to die. He had abandoned these people to the saibamen to save himself.

_“…Raditz….”_

“…”

_“…Tell Vegeta I-”_

There was another explosion and the woman and child screamed. Bulma heard eerie screeching and laughter, and the sound of pounding on metal, someone trying to get in. The older man hushed his family, whispering words of encouragement to them as the saibamen tried to break into their ship. The man and woman spoke in soft tones, whispering last confessions of love, gratitude, admiration…sobbing… 

 _“Do it, my love,”_ the woman told him gently.

There was an awful pause.

There was a sharp snap. The woman’s sobbing abruptly stopped, while the man’s escalated.

The boy screamed, crying terribly, and it sliced through Bulma’s very soul. 

_“MA-MA~! MA-MA~!”_

_“Shhh, shhh, come here, boy…”_

Horrified, Bulma listened as tears ran freely down her face; the man consoled his son, told him how proud he was of him… And then there was another awful snap, followed by the most horrendous, gut-wrenching sobs, the sounds of a man who had lost everything, including himself.

It became harder and harder to discern the audio as the cockpit recording it all flew further away. Finally there was nothing but static. Raditz turned the communicator off, having heard enough. The recording ended.

Bulma barely grabbed the waste basket in time before she threw up. When she had emptied her stomach, a hand offered her a glass of water. She looked up through wet eyes and saw Goku standing before her, his expression unusually somber. She weakly accepted the glass.

“Do you understand now?” Goku asked her, his voice gentle, but there was a bitter edge to it. “Vegeta wanted to transport his family, but Frieza had him commandeering a different mission. Raditz offered to accompany them in his place; he was a family friend after all.”

“I didn’t know,” Bulma sobbed, tears still running down her face. She couldn’t make them stop. Oh god, Raditz had murdered Vegeta's family!

“When Vegeta found out that his family had died… He went berserk,” Goku said, looking away, out the window. “He tried to have Raditz expelled, put on trial for murder, but when he learned the audio would need to be played as evidence against Raditz, he dropped the charges.”

“But… why?” Bulma asked.

Goku sighed, looking away. “I don’t think Vegeta could handle having that audio played in front of other people, to have everyone hear his family’s private final moments. It was too intimate to share; Vegeta wanted to preserve their honor, their memory. Especially his father. Vegeta Senior was a really proud man. To hear him like that… pleading… crying…” 

Bulma nodded, she could understand. Vegeta was a lot like that, clearly having taken after his father in many ways. It must have been devastating for Vegeta to hear his family cry and whisper their final affections, to know it was Raditz, a friend, who had betrayed them, and to know that his proud father had wept at the end.

“Vegeta went on a rampage,” Goku continued. “His anger quickly turned against Frieza who refused to take action against Raditz. Vegeta tried to throw a one-man coup… They nearly killed him bringing him down. Frieza threw him in solitary confinement. For a year. And, everyday, he played this recording to Vegeta. I don’t know why. Maybe to punish him, maybe to condition him so he wouldn’t react badly to it again. Maybe because the General is a bastard.”

“That’s monstrous!” Bulma whispered, shocked at the horrid treatment Vegeta had undergone. He had just lost his family, and they _tortured_ him? He had been in solitary for a whole _year,_ listening to his family's final moments? No wonder Vegeta had no social manners. 

“Yes,” Goku agreed. “Honestly, I’m not sure why Vegeta wasn’t executed. Frieza always favored him but everyone was still amazed that the General let Vegeta live after his attempted treason. I think Vegeta was surprised too… I think he was banking on failing… was _trying_ to go out in a blaze of glory…” Goku trailed off, his face twisted up in pain from the memory. He sighed. “I’m not going to pretend that Vegeta’s personality changed dramatically after that ordeal. I mean, he was always aloof, stubborn. But when he got out of solitary, he was… different. More intense. Colder, closed off, and less trusting. He played his cards much closer to his chest. I’m the only one he barely tolerated… Until you.”

Bulma wiped the tears from her eyes, surprised. “Me?”

Goku gave her a wan smile. “Yeah. You. I haven’t seen Vegeta as animated as when he’s with you. When you’re in the room, he can’t keep his eyes off you. He trusted you with his ki guard; he may as well have trusted you with his own arm. He even asked me on proper dancing etiquette before the charity ball… Which reminds me.” Goku dug into his pockets and pulled out two items - one was her scouter, the other, a large orange gem - the one she had bid on at the silent auction. 

Bulma took them both into her hands, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. “I don’t understand…”

“You won that,” Goku said, pointing at the orange orb. “A very charitable donation, I might add. The second highest of the night actually. It was only outdone by Vegeta, who offered 1 _trillion_ galts for your vest.”

“Wh-what?” she stammered.

“Right?” Goku agreed. “I had to ask him if it was a mistake. He told me it wasn’t. He said he didn’t want to risk anyone else outbidding him. And he didn’t say so, but I think he felt responsible for how much damage the city took during the attack, since he couldn’t stop the saibamen sooner.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Because he anonymously donated money to every family affected.”

Bulma looked down at her items, her fingers curling over her scouter, overwhelmed by the news. “Did you find this?” she asked, her voice hoarse, holding up the scouter.

Goku shook his head. “No. Vegeta left me a message, told me where to find it. It was in his nightstand draw, next to that audio device. He told me to give you both.”

“But…Why?” The scouter she could understand, but the audio file? Why did Vegeta want her to hear it, when he couldn’t even let a court hear it to condemn his family’s murderer?

“He left,” Goku told her flatly.

“What?!” She cried out, alarmed. “Where?”

“To tell Frieza that he won’t take over the outposts,” Goku said, his mouth turned down. “He said there’s nothing here for him.”

“ _What_!” Bulma said yet again, this time standing up, clutching the scouter and orb to her chest, her eyes wide. “Won’t the General be pissed?”

“Oh, yes. He was, very,” Goku replied unhappily. “Apparently all this happened yesterday, but I only found out about it a couple hours ago myself. Vegeta was given an ultimatum. Take over the outposts, or sign up to fight the Saibamen on the front with the Mayflies.”

“Mayflies?” Bulma asked with a horrible, sinking feeling.

Goku gave her a bleak look. “The soldiers on the front lines. They’re called the Mayflies because, like the insect, most of them don’t live for more than a day.”

 Bulma sank back to her bed, her hands clutched so tightly around her possessions she could feel them biting into her skin. She didn’t have to ask which choice Vegeta had taken. “How long has he been with the Mayflies?”

Goku locked his eyes with hers. “More than a day now.”

* * *

~xox~

 

Bulma was at the Bingley estate, having harassed Goku for the thousandth time if he had heard any news of Vegeta. Which he hadn’t. Not that Goku wasn’t trying, he had been doing everything in his power to get a message out to Vegeta, but they had no clue as to his success. The front lines were  dangerous, and messages often didn’t get through in a timely fashion, or at all.

Bulma didn’t know what to do. There was nothing she _could_ do. She didn’t have the authority or the ability to leave the planet. She had no way to contact Vegeta. There was much she wanted to say to him, to apologize for. She felt awful, playing over every terrible thing she had ever said or done to him. Her mind turned in circles, trying to come up with a plan, an idea, something, but her thoughts soon descended into worry for Vegeta's safety.

They were sitting down for dinner, Bulma aimlessly pushing the food about on her plate when a knock came from the front door. Goku went to answer, and he came back a minute later, his mouth pulled tightly. He looked at her and said, “It’s Raditz, for you.”

Bulma grimaced and got up. As she approached the front door, she saw him standing in Goku’s entryway, surveying the decorations with disinterest. It was strange to see him, looking dapper as always, when deep down she knew the horrible betrayal he was capable of. He smiled when he saw her. “Bulma. You’ve been a stranger. Have you not been well? I haven’t seen you lately at the wall.”

“I’ve had a lot on my mind,” she told him coolly.

“The General wishes to have another word with you,” Raditz said. “Can I tear you away from dinner?”

Bulma wanted to reply with a great many choice words, none of which were civil, but she bit her tongue. This might be her only chance to find out if Vegeta was alive, or possibly get a message to him. She forced a smile and accepted Raditz’s invitation. She excused herself from Goku and Chi Chi. Goku seemed especially concerned, suggesting he go with her. Bulma didn’t see what his presence could do, especially as he wasn’t invited and would therefore not be permitted.

They left right away. Bulma managed to refrain from telling Raditz to go fuck himself for making her think he was a decent human being. He walked next to her, a cocky swagger in his stride. Her mind reeled to think that this flirtatious, amiable young man had killed Vegeta’s family with a callous press of a button. And she had allowed herself to be enamored by him. She had never felt so betrayed or disgusted.

After a short, tense shuttle ride later, Bulma was soon standing once more in front of Frieza, the cold-eyed General looking her over from his imposing chair.

“Miss Briefs. Thank you for joining me again at such short notice,” he greeted her, making a steeple with his fingers. “It seems we have a problem, and I hear you might be able to help us.”

“Oh?” Bulma asked, suddenly nervous under Frieza’s intense scrutiny. What problem would require her expertise? Surely they had other engineers if something mechanical were awry?

“Yes,” Frieza continued with a dark smile, “You see, all I wanted was a nice little intergalactic war.”

“…Excuse me?” Bulma stammered. She… couldn’t have heard right.

Frieza’s grin widened. “War, Miss Briefs. I’m sure you know the term. Everyone tries to kill everyone else, or that’s how it appears to the masses. To people like _us_ , it’s about power. Profit. Control. Opportunity. All I needed was for Vegeta to stay on your tiny little planet and let himself get killed, and I would have had myself a lovely little war. But then you, Miss Briefs, _you_ come along and throw a monkey wrench into my carefully laid plans. And now Vegeta has gone away on what should have been a death sentence - but apparently the stubborn bastard simply refuses to die. And you know what I hear? That he has some kind of ki armor which has been instrumental to his survival. Now, doesn’t _that_ sound familiar? I do seem to recall a little blue mouse telling me something about this _fantastical_ ki armor. Yet Vegeta _insisted_ this invention was defective. Isn’t it _most_ _curious_ that you two would be keeping each other’s secrets, especially when Raditz here claims you can’t stand the man.”

Bulma felt her mouth go dry, her feet rooted to the spot. She was frozen, panicked, and drowning in information. She was elated to hear that Vegeta was alive, but her joy was quickly overshadowed by the General’s threats against herself and the _entire galaxy_. She struggled to think of an excuse to sidestep her guilt, but nothing came to mind. Nothing except how utterly fucked she was.

Frieza smiled at her cruelly, perfectly aware of the effect his speech was having on her. “Well, I suppose you’re wondering what the point of my telling you all this is? You see, I have a favor to ask of you. I’m sure this mess we find ourselves in is all just some _giant_ misunderstanding, is it not? So, to show that there are no hard feelings, I would like you to help me convince Vegeta to return to the outpost.”

Bulma hesitated. Her eyes darted to Raditz, but he gave her nothing. She looked back at Frieza, scowling. “Why not order him back yourself?”

“Hmm,” Frieza hummed, his eyes sparking. “You see, I wouldn’t want anyone raising questions about my intentions of placing Vegeta back on the outpost, would I? I can’t have there being a shred of doubt about who the ‘bad guy’ is here, or my little war is going to turn into civil unrest, and that’s far too messy for my liking. No, I’d rather just have everyone up in arms when they learn that the saibamen have blown up your planet, and Vegeta along with it.”

“ _What_?” Bulma balked.

Frieza’s grin stretched broadly across his face. “Haven’t you been listening, dear? Who do you think has been feeding intel to the saibamen? Or  sending Raditz to mess with your precious wall security? Your outpost is the perfect place to stage a war. It has nothing of particular value. Blowing it up won’t be of any great loss to me, but it does boast enough of a population to cause an intergalactic outcry at such a tragedy. And Prince Vegeta’s death would be the cherry on the cake.”

“Prince?” Bulma echoed, stunned.

“Oh, you didn’t know?” Frieza crooned. “Vegeta is the last remaining heir to his people. Raditz here is one of them too. Saiyans, you call yourselves?” Frieza asked, looking at Raditz.

Raditz gave a callous shrug. 

“A warrior people,” Frieza went on to explain, looking back at her. “Good breeders - large population, large military too. They’re excellent fighters, probably due to their natural aptitude with ki technology. Awfully proud too. So if they were to learn that their precious Prince had been unjustly murdered by saibamen, they would feel compelled to rise up and join the war in full force. Of course, let’s not forget you, my dear,” Frieza grinned at her. “ _You_ could profit from all this as well. I have high expectations for this ki armor of yours. I’m willing to forgive your other transgressions in lieu of it. All you have to do is convince Vegeta to return.”

Bulma felt her hands tremble, her jaw set. The weight of Frieza’s eyes and words bore down on her, crushing, grinding down her future. Everything rested on her answer, and she knew her choices weren’t pretty. Help murder Vegeta and her planet, or refuse and die with them. But Bulma wasn’t easily intimidated, and she was not willing to be like Raditz and give up people dear to her, just to save her own skin.

“General. I never can, nor ever will help someone as vile as you. Kindly go to hell,” she told him coldly.

Frieza’s mouth split into a silent laugh, flashing teeth. “O-hoho, no, my dear, that is where _your_ planet and all its darling people will be going. Everyone except you that is. I had hoped you would help us willingly, but one way or the other, you _will_ do as I say. And, just between you and me,” he leaned forward in his seat, his eyes flashing maniacally. “I’ve always preferred a struggle.”

* * *

~xox~

 

Raditz escorted her down the passageway. Bulma felt sick to her stomach, her legs like lead, barely working, heavy with dread. How did she go from being an eligible bachelorette one day, to a prisoner of one of the most powerful men in the galaxy the next?

Bulma Briefs, you sure know how to screw up big.

“I don’t know if you’re brave or just stupid,” Raditz said as they walked. Bulma glared at him from the corner of her eye. “Why are you protecting him? I thought you loathed Vegeta,” he continued.

“Turns out I was sorely mistaken. And misled,” she said, the latter directed at him.

Raditz arched a brow, giving her a contemptuous look. “…You sound just like him.”

“You MURDERED his FAMILY!”

Raditz rolled his eyes. “And I feel terrible, but what the hell was I supposed to do? Die with them? What good would that have done?”

“You could have tried harder to save them!” Bulma spat back. “Or taken them into the cockpit with you. Or not been so irresponsible as to-”

He smacked her across the cheek. Bulma stumbled into the wall, holding her face, stunned and smarting in pain.

“Don’t get impudent, girl,” Raditz sneered at her. “Whatever beguiling spell you have put on Vegeta will not work on me. If you think me infatuated, I should warn you I have been putting on a show all this time. Frieza asked me to keep an eye on you. He wanted to know if your skills were worth recruiting when you discovered we had tampered with the wall.”

Bulma blinked back tears of pain, and she glared hatefully at the tall, handsome man. “You’re disgusting,” she spat at him. “You beat women. You blame others for your mistakes. You give up friends whenever it suits you. You bow to the General like an eager little bitch, waiting for a pat on the head. Vegeta was right,” she growled. “You _are_ weak.”

Raditz lunged forward and grabbed her by the hair. Bulma cried out and tried to push him off, but to no avail. He shoved her against the wall, pinning her with his body. “Oh, my dear, I don’t just beat women. I _break_ them.”

Bulma felt a sob catch in her throat. She refused to show him any fear. Easier said then done though.

He grinned, seeing her resistance. “Let’s send your lover a message, shall we?” He pulled something out of his pocket, bringing it up between them. Bulma didn’t recognize the device. It looked like a communicator, but she had never seen one that was portable before. Raditz hit some buttons and waited, and there was crackling and buzzing on the line, before someone finally answered.

“Patch me through to Colonel Vegeta,” Raditz snapped into the device.

Bulma stiffened at Vegeta's name, her heart starting to flutter.

After an impossibly long time, the device crackled again, and she heard a familiar, gruff voice answer, _“What is it?”_

Vegeta.

She wanted to cry.

“Vegeta!” Raditz greeted cheerily, his eyes locked to Bulma’s as he spoke, grinning darkly at her. 

_“Raditz?!”_

“Don’t hang up. I have a special guest here with me. I think you know her. Bulma, why don’t you say ‘Hi’ to our Prince?”

Bulma kept her mouth shut, glaring at Raditz, refusing to play his game.

There was no answer from the communicator, but the continued white noise indicated that Vegeta hadn’t hung up.

“Aw, she’s shy,” Raditz laughed. “That’s okay, I’ve always been pretty good at making women scream.”

_“Fuck off, Raditz, if this is some kind of sick joke-”_

Raditz cut him off. “Bulma, love, would you like to tell Vegeta where you’ll be staying, or shall I? Oh, that’s right, I don’t think we’ve told you yet, have we? It’s one of Vegeta’s favorite vacation spots actually. Solitary confinement.”

_“Raditz, I swear to god I will-”_

“Wait, Vegeta, do you hear that?” Raditz asked and then suddenly he kissed her.

Bulma screamed into his mouth and tried to shove him away, but Raditz was twice her size and who knew how many times stronger. When he pulled back, he smacked her so hard across the face she fell to the floor, crying despite herself. Raditz shoved the communicator into her face, letting it soak up her sobs. Bulma covered her face, struggling to get her breathing and tears in check.

_“…Bulma?”_

Vegeta’s concerned tone broke her. She was found out. Bulma started sobbing harder, curling up on the floor, ashamed at how weak she was.

Finally, Raditz raised the device back to his mouth. “Did you get a good earful, Vegeta? Mmm, human women taste so sweet. Like vanilla and strawberries. I wonder if she tastes that good everywhere?”

_“…Where are you, you sonovabitch?”_

Raditz laughed. “Where else would we be? Circling her pathetic little planet, waiting for you to come home. You had better hurry, or there might not be anything left of her, ‘cause I’m going to eat her all up.”

“VEGETA, DON’T, IT’S A TRAP!” Bulma screamed even as she held her swollen cheek. “THEY’RE TRYING TO KILL YOU!”

Raditz slapped her again, hard enough to make her cry out in pain. “Oh, tsk tsk. That’s a bad girl. Don’t go giving away all the spoilers just yet. WELL anyway, it’s been fun. The ball is in your court, Vegeta. Toodles!”

_“RADI-”_

Raditz turned off the device, and laughed loudly as soon as he did. He gave Bulma a little nudge with his foot. “Come along then, dear. Solitary confinement awaits.”

* * *

~xox~

 

It was dark, and cold, and small.

That was the worst part, how _small_ it was. The room was so narrow she couldn’t even lie down, not unless she curled up in the fetal position. Even then she felt like she might get stuck if she did. It was barely big enough to sit down in, with her knees half bent. Those were her choices. Stand or sit. There was a small hole for a toilet, and nothing else. There was _nothing_. It was just a room. A space. And she was to exist in there indefinitely.

Alone.

Forgotten.

Bulma grew claustrophobic within minutes. She could touch all the walls without having to stretch out, and each time she did she swore they had grown closer, that they were slowly, ever so slowly inching in, part of some sick joke of Frieza’s. She became terrified that if she fell asleep she would wake up with the walls all around her, squeezing her, choking her.

She screamed and beat on the walls with her fists. She cried. She slept in fitful bursts, waking up in a panic, slicked with sweat.

She grew hungry. Then starving. But then it faded away into nothing more than a dull ache. 

How much time had passed? Hours? Days?

How long would they leave her here? Until she died? Was her planet still around, or had Frieza blown it up? Was her family alive, were Chi Chi and Goku? She hand’t been told what Frieza and Raditz planned to do with her if Vegeta didn’t come. Or even if he did. Perhaps he had already come and he was dead even now, and she wouldn’t know… 

Bulma sat and rocked herself, her knees to her chest, and hummed a wordless tune.

She thought she heard voices. Was she imagining them? Was it a sound device playing? Was it echoes from across the ship? She didn’t know, she had no way to know. 

At least Raditz hadn’t touched her yet, which was a small blessing after hearing all the vile things he had told Vegeta he would do to her, but she wasn’t confident that he wouldn’t be coming for her even now. Any second he could open that door and do whatever he liked to her, and who would stop him?

God, everything had gone so horribly wrong. If only she had something, a tool, anything… 

Bulma lifted her head, nearly smacking it back against the wall behind her. She frantically started feeling about the walls, using her fingertips to find her way. There was a door somewhere. That meant there had to be a lock… It took her far longer than she would have liked, but she finally found the lock. She grabbed at her hair and pulled out some pins, what was left after Raditz had manhandled her, and started wiggling one about in the lock.

She swore when it broke, but didn’t give up. Carefully, patiently, Bulma worked and worked at the lock. It felt like an eternity, but after a dedicated while she finally heard the most beautiful sound in the world.

A mechanical click as the tumblers shifted and slid open.

Bulma would have cried if she had any tears left. 

Slowly, sloooo~wly she opened the door, just a crack and peered out. The light stung her eyes, making her retreat.

_KA-BOOM!_

Bulma teetered and fell back. The entire ship tilted, shaking, and moaned like a wounded whale. An alarm started sounding. 

Had… had she done that by unlocking the door?

No, of course not.

…Probably.

Another explosion rocking the vessel told her that she had indeed not caused the disaster, but it did convince her that something big was going down. She needed to get out, now, before the whole ship was blown apart. Without any hesitancy now, Bulma threw the door open and stumbled out into the brightly lit corridor and looked around. It was empty. Having no clue where to go, she chose a random direction and started hobbling as best as her stiff legs could take her, hugging the wall for support. 

Another loud BOOM shook the ship, and she nearly fell, crying out when a pipe burst and sprayed the corridor nearby with burning steam. She staggered back and hit something.

“You little _bitch_.”

A hand lashed out and grabbed her about the throat. Choking, she was pulled up face to face with Raditz.

Of course it would be him. The unfairness of the situation filled Bulma with rage. She thrashed in his grip, lashing out and scratching him with her fingernails, drawing blood. 

“ _LAIRN_!” Raditz swore, wiping the blood from his face. He gave her a fierce shake and tightened his hold until she could barely suck in air. “Don’t make me crush your little throat, whore!” he snarled, and then started marching them away, but it was in the opposite direction from solitary confinement. 

Bulma didn’t know how to feel about that. Where was he taking her now?

He dragged her, kicking and choking down the corridors. He was looking around, sweating, his body tense, and Bulma quickly caught on that something was wrong. Whatever those explosions were, Raditz didn't approve of them. They finally reached a place she recognized, the shuttle launch pad. Her eyes widened. He was trying to escape the ship, but why was he bothering to drag her with him?

He headed towards the closest shuttle when it exploded in a violent light, sending them stumbling back as a wave of heat and energy burst out. Raditz turned around, snarling, and he pulled Bulma up against him like a shield.

That’s when she saw the reason Raditz had come for her; she was to be his hostage.

Vegeta stood in the doorway. Or at least, she thought it was Vegeta. All she could make out was his silhouette, his body engulfed in a fierce yellow light. He slowly walked towards them, his eyes glowing strangely, his hair appearing golden… a trick of the light? “Let her go,” Vegeta said, his voice low but commanding.

Raditz tightened his hold on Bulma’s throat. “Like HELL. You STAY BACK, Vegeta, or I swear I’ll snap her neck in half!”

Vegeta stopped advancing, but he looked no less threatening. The energy radiating around him was intense, far more than it had been during his experiment in her lab. Bulma saw his eyes flicker to her briefly, then back to Raditz. 

“G-good!” Raditz said when he saw Vegeta stop. “Now take off your ki guard, and turn off whatever the hell you’re doing to make that armor glow.”

Very deliberately, Vegeta raised his right hand. He pulled his glove off his hand, then carefully unlatched and took off his ki guard. He threw it down on the floor with a clatter. Next Vegeta lowered his head, taking in a deep breath. He let it out, and with it the golden glow about him started to fade. It shrank, growing smaller and smaller until it was gone. Vegeta stood before them, hair and eyes black, looking as he always had, his expression colder than usual. “I’ve done as you’ve asked," he told Raditz. "Let her go.”

Raditz laughed hysterically. “You’re such a fool, Vegeta. I’m surprised Frieza tolerated your shit for as long as he did. I may have drank myself half to death over what I had to do to your father, but I won’t lose one second of sleep over killing you.”

Raditz raised his hand, and Bulma gasped when she saw he was wearing a ki guard. She struggled, trying to throw Raditz’s aim off, but he was immovable. She heard the crackle and the smell of ozone as he fired.

Vegeta tilted his head to the side, letting the ki slide harmlessly past his ear and explode into the wall behind him. 

“What the…!” Raditz said, taking a startled step back. 

Vegeta’s eyes narrowed, the hint of a smile playing on his lips. “Is that all you’ve got?”

Raditz snarled and fired shot after shot until the room filled with smoke and fire. Raditz walked her backwards, towards another shuttle and closer to fresh air. Overhead the sprinkler system went off, and within seconds they were drenched in water.

Finally, out from the smoke, Vegeta emerged unscathed. He slowly walked towards them.

Raditz was gasping for air, his breathing coming hard and ragged. He had exhausted himself in his desperate attack.

Vegeta knew it. “New ki guard?” he asked Raditz with a small smile. “Getting used to how much energy it sucks up can be tricky. Most people overdo it.”

Raditz roared and fired three more shots. Vegeta dodged the first two. The last one he took face on - or so it appeared, but it bounced off an invisible barrier, the air around him glowing yellow for a moment. Vegeta hadn’t turned the ki armor off, rather, he was concentrating the power when necessary.

Bulma didn’t even know that was possible. It appeared Vegeta had become quite adapt with the technology in his stint away with the Mayflies.

Vegeta waved off the smoke, and narrowed his eyes further at Raditz, his gaze becoming wicked. “Let me give you some advice, _Raditz_. The secret to mastering ki technology is-”

Vegeta disappeared, blinking out of existence. Bulma felt Raditz tense in surprise before Vegeta materialized in front of them, having moved so fast her eyes couldn’t see. He was glowing yellow again, his eyes a soulless teal. Vegeta’s left hand had wrapped around Raditz’s throat. 

“-You have to find your own personal brass mouse to modify it for you. But you can’t have this one. She’s mine.”

Light exploded from Vegeta’s hand, his second ki guard hidden under his glove, and he blew Raditz away from the neck up. Raditz’s headless body fell limp to the ground, and Bulma went down with him. She shoved Raditz’s arm from her throat, coughing and gasping to regain her breath. Looking up she saw Vegeta standing over her.

He looked down at her, taking a step forward. His leg buckled, his yellow aura flickering. The water from the sprinklers hissed where it touched his light. He slowly sank to his knees before her. “Bulma-”

She sat up but hesitated to touch him, lest she be burnt by his ki. Vegeta must have had the same thought. He frowned in concentration and suddenly the yellow forcefield opened up, and he took her inside, scooping her up into his arms before the light engulfed them again. She let out a small gasp, feeling energy rush through her at his touch, her whole body buzzing with his ki, her skin almost itching where she touched him. It was dry inside, the shield protecting them from the sprinklers. Vegeta’s body was fiercely hot, and she clung to him for both comfort and warmth. She looked at him from up close.

Without the aura in the way, he was even more impressive to behold. His teal eyes pierced through her, terrifying in their changed color, but she saw his humanity there, and he held her so gently. She wasn’t afraid. She was awed. Vegeta lifted her up in his arms as if she weighed nothing and staggered to his feet, carrying her towards the nearest shuttle.

“What happened to you?” she asked quietly, her eyes taking in his changed form. She reached out to touch a golden spike of his hair.

“I practiced,” he said, his tone dry. “A lot.”

“Just practiced?” she asked, incredulous.

“…And got very, very angry,” he admitted.

“No kidding.” 

He took her inside the shuttle and locked the door behind him. Almost haphazardly he pressed some buttons on the control pad, launching them into space. Then he placed her down on a bench and his light flickered once, twice, and finally died out. The cool shuttle air bit her wet skin, and the buzzing caused by his aura vanished. Vegeta’s hair and eyes melted back to their natural black. His legs trembled and he stumbled, catching himself on one knee. He stayed sat before her, head bowed, finally giving himself the chance to let his guard down. She could feel him trembling, exhausted, his shoulders rising and falling as he struggled to catch his breath. She saw his brow was covered in sweat. Bulma wiped her hands over his face, feeling how alarmingly hot and clammy he was even with his ki gone. “You look terrible,” she whispered, worried for him. How long had he been using his ki this way? Minutes, hours, _days_? He had put on a very impressive display; she had little doubt he was the cause of the previous explosions to the ship, having blasted his way in, but now she feared he had overdone it and used up too much ki to get to her.

He huffed a small laugh. “You too.” He raised a hand, his fingers hovering by her cheek, but then he frowned and let his arm fall, looking away. 

Her heart lodged in her throat, her lower lip quivering. “That’s not a nice thing to say to a lady, you know.”

“…Okay.”

Bulma felt a few tears drip down her cheeks. She wiped them away angrily. “Show me your arms.”

He obligingly held up his hands for her, but even that effort seemed to cost him. She could already see his right arm was ruined from where he had taken off the first gauntlet at Raditz's demand. Despite her modifications, Vegeta had clearly been pushing himself hard these last few days. What horrors had he endured with the Mayflies, out on the front lines? Bulma pulled off Vegeta's left ki guard and found a similar scene on that arm too, his skin black, charred and blistered, weeping painfully. 

“Why do you do this to yourself?” she asked, her fingers ghosting over his trembling palms.

Vegeta stared down at their hands, his throat bobbing. “I…” he didn’t finish, his fingers twitching under her gentle caress. 

“Do you have any senzu oil?” she asked him.

He blinked, struggling to think. “I think so…”

Bulma sighed. She ran her hands down his side, around his waist until she found his pouch and pulled out a senzu bottle. There was only a tiny bit left, but it would be enough to take away the worst of his injuries. She opened the bottle and started to apply the oil to Vegeta’s wounds.

He let her dress his injuries, saying nothing, his eyes darting up to look at her, then away. “Why didn’t you give them what they wanted?” he finally asked her, his voice hoarse.

Bulma frowned as she rubbed his wounds. “They wanted _you_. Your _life_.”

“…I told you it was yours to take.”

Bulma looked up at him, eyes wide, his words a slap to the face. _That’s_ what he had meant when he had told her his life was in her hands? Bulma felt her lip tremble, her shoulders shaking with rage. “Why? I just… I don’t understand you at all!” she shouted at him, the words spilling out. “You just let me stand there in the clock towner and condemn you. You never once corrected me, you never told me what Raditz did to your family! And then you just give me your life to do with as I pleased? What is _wrong_ with you?”

Vegeta looked away, his face pained. 

Bulma huffed and brushed away more tears, irritated at herself, and at him. 

“Bulma…?”

“What?” she snapped at him as she continued to treat his wounds.

“Frieza is going to be pissed.”

“Oh really? You don’t say.”

“I blocked the corridor to the shuttles, but we shouldn’t stay in orbit long… However…” He looked at her uncertainly.

She looked back at him, suddenly nervous under his dark eyes. “However what?” she asked, her tone softer than before.

“I can’t… help wondering… From your actions… if you have changed your mind…”

Bulma felt a blush rise. “Vegeta…” She felt something against her palm and looked down, seeing Vegeta’s hand gently take her own.

“My plan to leave hasn’t changed,” he said, his voice hushed. “If your answer is still no, tell me. I’ll take you back to your planet and go, and you’ll never hear from me again.”

Bulma hesitated. Leaving her home, her family and friends… it was a lot to ask. But she looked in Vegeta’s dark eyes, and finally, without the prejudice which had blinded her in the past, she saw the warmth and affection there. He stared at her with such a fragile, earnest hope that Bulma felt her heart tighten, and her decision was an easy one. She smiled at him softly, and saying nothing, leaned her brow against his.

Vegeta let out an amazed, shaky breath. He raised his newly healed hands and cupped her face. “Bulma, I…I want you to…” he struggled to ask, pulling her tighter against him, his mouth hovering close to hers. “…I want you to…”

“Want me to what?” she asked gently, encouragingly, nudging him with her nose.

He huffed, his breath warm on her lips. “I want _you_ ,” he finally admitted.

Bulma shivered against him, and pulled him closer. “Then have me.”

He did, kissing her.

His mouth was warm and demanding. Bulma submitted, leaning into his strong embrace. She pushed her fingers through his hair, tugging him in closer as he kissed hungrily at her mouth. He pressed her back against the wall of the shuttle, and she parted her legs, drawing him in. His hold on her tightened as he grew bolder, his hands warm and rough against her tender skin.

Suddenly he picked her up and moved her to the floor. She yelped in surprise, but sprawled out compliantly beneath him. He followed her down, his eyes growing darker at her acquiescence, sensing triumph. As he went to kiss her his vest dug into her and she yelped. “Ouch!”

Vegeta made an agitated sound. He sat back up, ripping off his shirt before struggling to work all the buckles loose on his armor. Bulma laughed as his fingers shook, making the task more difficult than it needed to be. She sat up and put her hands over his. “Allow me,” she offered.

He looked at her from under dark lashes. His throat bobbed, and he let his hands fall to his sides. Bulma smiled coquettishly, slowly undoing all the buckles on the vest. Finally, he could pull it off, revealing a chest black and purple with bruises.

Her brow creased, troubled. “Vegeta,” she whispered in concern, running her fingers over his chest.

He stopped her, gently taking her hand in his grip and pressed her arm to the floor above her head. He leaned his powerful body over her, staring into her eyes, and any thoughts of pity for him were soon replaced with something else, a desperate longing to have him pressed against her, to _feel_ him on her. 

“It’s nothing,” he reassured her, and she believed him. He kissed her again, slower this time but no less hungrily. She moaned into his mouth. When he let her wrists go she wrapped her arms around his powerful shoulders, feelings scars and unyielding muscle as she mapped him with her fingers. A gentle tug from her and he settled down, leaning his weight into her, his forearms braced on either side. He kissed her with his whole body grinding into hers. The heat from him felt _exquisite_ against her shivering, wet skin.

When they broke for air she nuzzled his cheek, clinging to him happily. “Vegeta,” she murmured, enjoying the sensation of saying his name so intimately. He hummed back pleasantly in response. The sound made her lips curl up in a possessive smile. This was really happening, she really had him. 

“Your clothes,” he said, mouthing his way down her jaw to her throat. “Do you care much for them?”

She did like her dress, but not as much as she liked what he was doing to her now. “No.”

He grabbed a fistful of her bodice and _ripped_ , and the fabric tore apart like rice paper beneath his brute strength. She gasped as her breasts spilled out, and he didn’t hesitate to put his hands on them, cupping her reverently, kissing his way down her collarbone towards them.

She arched back when his lips found a pert nipple pebbled from the cold. Her fingers curled about his powerful arms, goading him on. He sucked her hungrily into the wet cave of his mouth, but didn’t stay long. He lavished each spot only briefly, bent on a mission, moving his mouth down to the soft swell of her belly to claim all over her. She was lost, swept away by his conquering mouth.

He ripped her dress further until it fell into halves at her sides and she was revealed entirely to him. Bulma didn’t have time to feel shy because he grabbed her slender thighs and threw them over his shoulders. His eyes slid up to meet hers, watching her with a black intensity as he leaned in and tasted her.

Bulma let out a cry that reverberated off the metallic walls. Her back arched up from the floor, hips bucking against his tongue. Vegeta’s eyes narrowed as he watched her, the corner of his eyes crinkling in amusement. His wicked tongue laved her a second time, and his fingers tightened on her thighs as she writhed under him, her hands dragging down her body, fisting in her ruined dress. He didn't stop, his tongue tasting her again and again.

“Vegeta, oh god…” she wailed, her breath hitching, breaking on sobbing moans as he quickly unmade her with his clever mouth. She had never experienced anything so amazing, and her breasts heaved as she struggled to draw in air to breathe and beg for more.

He wasn’t so compliant. Just when she was losing the ability to form words he stopped. Bulma could have cried at the loss of his mouth. She trembled and moaned fretfully, watching him from under heavy lidded eyes as he licked his mouth clean, wiping his large forearm across his lips before moving back up the length of her. His raw sensuality made her gut clench with longing.

He kissed her mouth, and she tasted herself on him. She took the initiative, running her hands down his impressive body towards his pants, working open the front.

“You never told me you are an alien,” she breathed against his mouth.

“Does it matter?” he asked her, his voice low, rumbling deep in his chest.

She smiled softly as her fingers made quick work of his pants. “No. I just thought of something Frieza mentioned. That your people are good breeders.” Her hand slipped inside and it was easy to find the thick, hard length of him, her fingers eagerly pulling him free. “I can believe it,” she said breathily.

Vegeta’s brow furrowed at her touch, and his eyes fell shut. He let out a small groan, pressing his brow to hers as a tremor run through his body. She smiled, emboldened, and encircled his girth with her fingers, letting them glide over the silken length of him. Vegeta hissed between clenched teeth. His eyes opened, and he looked at her with a hunger that was almost terrifying. “Let me show you just how good we are.”

“I’m waiting,” she encouraged, pulling her legs up to hug his hips.

He knocked her hand off him and grabbed both her arms to hold above her head in one hand. Then he guided himself into the wet heat of her. Bulma’s head arched back, her mouth falling open in a gasp as he pierced her. “O-oh!” 

He grunted, his fingers tightening painfully over her wrists as he sank inside of her. He started thrusting, slow at first, experimental, but her pathetic mewls of need soon had him rolling harder into her. Bulma couldn’t think coherently, her arms trapped, her thighs spread widely to accommodate his powerful thrusts. He swelled inside her, breaking her apart, shattering her into tiny pieces of star dust and she just wanted to float away, lose herself forever in this moment, with him.

“Vegeta, deeper!” she pleaded, and he willingly took her orders. He grabbed her thigh and hitched it up, bending her double as he pushed inside her as deep and fast as he could. She sobbed in pleasure, feeling her ending build and swell, ready for a cataclysmic super nova event. 

She had never felt this way before, and it wasn’t just carnal, it was everything. He made her feel safe and treasured in a way she had thought impossible. He wasn’t just commanding her pleasure, he was commanding her heart and mind, and Bulma had never felt so raw or exposed.

“Vegeta~,” she gasped, trembling helplessly beneath him. A few tears slipped down the corners of her eyes as she looked up at him, overwhelmed with emotion.

He surprised her by kissing her. He continued slipping in and out of her, letting her hands go so that he could slip a hand between them. His thumb pressed against her, and wet with her arousal, he teased her sensitive nub. Bulma lost it, tumbling over the edge of pleasure. She bowed her back, keening as she came against him.

He grabbed her hips and pistoned hard into her tiny body. “ _Velg_ , Bulma…”  he swore. He soon followed her over the precipice, spilling himself inside her with a deep, growling groan.

He continued moving his hips for a while, slowly eking out the moment. Finally, he fell to his forearms and dropped his head to her shoulder, panting hard.

Bulma brought her hands up, stroking his sweaty back tenderly. “Okay, so, you weren’t bragging,” she teased breathlessly.

He grunted, refusing to move yet. “I’m not even at my best.”

Bulma bit her lip, trying to imagine what it would be like with Vegeta when he was fully healed and rested.

She yelped as he suddenly picked her up. She wrapped her legs around him, making an unhappy sound as he fell out of her. He kissed her to make up for it and carried her to a waist-high ledge by a window, setting her down. “Don’t go anywhere,” he told her, his mouth lilting up, amused by his own joke. There was no where to go in the tiny shuttle.

Bulma scoffed, leaning back, not even caring about her lack of undress. “Promise. Wouldn’t want to disobey a Prince.”

He grimaced. “Like you listen to _anyone_ despite their title.”

She grinned. “True. So, does this make me your Princess?”

Vegeta stammered, caught off guard by her question, the tips of his ears turning pink. “I… If… that’s what you desire?”

She grinned at him, utterly charmed. She kissed the tip of his nose. “So long as I get to rule by your side.”

Vegeta turned away but not before she saw him blush. 

“Won’t they come after us?” Bulma asked, seeing the ship grow smaller as they flew away.

“Not for a while,” Vegeta assured. “By which time we’ll be long gone. I took out their engines and weapons… But I should contact Kakarot before we’re out of range. They might retaliate against your planet.”

Bulma smiled smugly. “That might be hard while they’re all being court marshaled,” she said.

Vegeta frowned, not understanding.

“Frieza is _very_ talkative, and it just so happens I have my scouter in my pocket, which is fitted with a recording device,” she explained.

Vegeta’s brows rose. “You’re diabolical.”

“I believe the word you’re looking for is ‘genius’,” she corrected smugly.

“Tch. Not humble, apparently.”

“Look who’s talking, Mr. I’m the Prince of All Breeders.”

“Didn’t hear you complaining about that a minute ago.”

Bulma poked out her tongue at him and he scowled at her. He turned and opened a cabinet, pulling out some spare military clothing, handing her a top while he slipped one over his head. As she was dressing she felt him nudge her thighs apart, demanding a space between them so he could watch the stars with her.

“Where to?” she asked him, the galaxy twinkling brightly through the window.

“Anywhere,” he replied, his arms wrapping about her waist. “Absolutely anywhere we want.”

 

 

_~Fin~_

 

* * *

~0x0x0~

...Art by [VegetaPsycho](http://vegetapsycho.tumblr.com/post/153517502570/i-should-have-done-this-sooner-ladyvegeets-s)

  

 **AN** : Y’all have VegetaPsycho to thank for me not splitting this into 2 chapters. XD 

Once again, a HUGE shout-out to **Artephile/Marcella-Duchamp** for beta-reading this and being so awesome. And thanks to everyone else who sent their support, and who voted, enabling me to nab first place for the 2016 Literature Challenge over on The Price and the Heiress community. :) Much gratitude also to Loveveggiehead for providing a gorgeous prize <3 

 

I’ve received the most amazing **fanart** for this story so far by **GalacticShark17, Artephile / Marcella-Duchamp, Rutbisbe, Stupidoomdoodles, VegetaPsycho** and **RedViolett.** Thank you so much guys!!! Fanart is my favorite thing in the whole world :D And VegetaPsycho and RedViolett have especially been on a roll with their steampunk art for this story lately, making so much incredible fanart for it. Please tell all these artists how amazing they are so they’ll be encouraged to make even more for our viewing pleasure ^_^ 

 

To the **guest** **reviewer** , ‘ **DBZ** ’ who left a comment on chapter 2 on FFnet - I appreciate your honesty about your voting choice. I also voted for another story in TPATH challenge which I thought superior to my own, haha. ^_^ However, I do want to address the comment you made that I only had ‘one chapter’ up at the time, which is not correct. I had ‘Of Stars, Steam and Pride’ completed in its entirety and submitted for the challenge (all five chapters). It was a LOT of hard work. Believe me, I was writing in every spare second I had, barely sleeping in the days leading up to the deadline of the literature challenge, madly trying to get 34,000+ words written in less than two weeks (with my beta reader bravely in the wings helping me out and can attest to that fact, haha). I finished this story with literally 15 minutes to spare, eep! I’m sorry if you only read the first chapter, I’m not sure how that happened, but I’m glad to hear you’re enjoying the other chapters now. Once the competition was over, I decided to go over this story, just to give it one last read-over and to polish up any typos or prose that I felt could be improved on, before posting online. Otherwise this story is about 95% the same as the one submitted for the challenge, which you can still find on The Prince and The Heiress google community. And I also agree with you that the other writers should be thanked for their participation, because everyone did I great job, and I really thought I wasn’t going to win because a couple in particular were PHENOMENAL. I encourage everyone who enjoys vegebul fanfiction to check them out (see below). Those stories left me in serious awe, tears, and one even had me experiencing something of an existential crisis. So yeah, they were really damn good. :)

 

The other contestants who wrote for this challenge were, [BigBad-Wolfy](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12207360/1/Thieves-Pirates-and-Cotton-Candy-Dreams) , [Bitchii-Usa](https://m.fanfiction.net/s/12206155/1/Blue-Kissed-Sky) , [Verimol Lab](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1IKW09zVNniCAcdPLTolZGUnZ9lOsme_GLBJfhbXZZd8/edit) , [Mariana Oliveira](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12206382/1/Ms-Briefs) , [Fleur Licorne](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12207194/1/) , [Vera Lynn](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12207075/1/Revolution-A-Tale-of-Two-Cities-AU) and [FrogLady15](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12205999/1/). You should go check out their fantastic stories :) 

 

Find more vegebul goodies from **LadyVegeets** on **twitter, tumblr, FFnet, AO3.**

 

 **P.S**. And yes, before you ask, I wouldn't be averse to doing a sequel. But like all things, it will take time, and most importantly, a worthy story to be told. 


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